


Lullaby

by starsandstark



Series: gone too soon [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: AU, Child Death, Depression, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Steve, Hurt/Comfort, Infertility, M/M, Mpreg, Postpartum Depression, Sexual Content, Stillbirth, Stony - Freeform, Superhusbands, Tony Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-23 11:03:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 26,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsandstark/pseuds/starsandstark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slight AU, post-Avengers 2012. Things have quieted down long enough for the Avengers to live normal, domestic lives. When Tony and Steve decide to start a family they face the hardest thing they've ever had to deal with as they lose their infant son, Peter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this mid-November and didn't get the courage/motivation to post it on this site until now because the standards are much higher than FF.net. Honesty, I'm still a little hesitant because it ignores basic canon rules such as Tony feels and Steve gets drunk, pregnant and also gives birth. It's my first Avengers thing ever written. Feedback/comments are welcomed and appreciated. The whole thing is based loosely around my own personal experience with the same issue.

_November 19_

Tony caresses the steering wheel with his thumbs as the steady November rain rattles against the car windows. They've been silent since they left the hospital. He isn't used to this dreadful, awful tension between them. Steve is usually chattering about something that doesn't even matter to Tony; something that doesn't even interest him. But Steve talks and Tony listens, always. But Steve hasn't spoken a word and now it's Tony's turn to talk.

Tony has always been a good speaker; he's arguably the best bullshitter anyone could ever imagine. When it comes to Steve the things Tony has to say seem to roll off his tongue. Because everything with Steve has always been so easy in the past, save a few instances where the team bet on who would kill who first. But not this time.

"Steve," Tony finally whispers, glancing across the car. His voice breaks when he sees the few tears sliding down those beautiful cheekbones that he loves so much. He can't even think, can't even _fathom_ the idea of Steve, _his_ Steve, his _Captain America_ , his entire _life_ , being reduced to the point of tears.

His hands are flat against his swollen belly, still round and warm, cradling it protectively, and it hurts _so much_. Steve doesn't respond, he can't even look at Tony. He's never cried in his adult life and he certainly isn't comfortable doing so in front of Tony Stark-Rogers.

"Steve?" Tony tries again, a little more confident this time, "Baby, it's-" And now Tony's voice breaks and a single tear slips down his cheek, "It's okay to cry."

Since when the hell does Tony Stark-Rogers cry?

And Steve loses it; the tone of Tony's voice reduces him to a whimpering, blubbering, snotty mess of a person. He doubles over, elbows on his knees and head in his hands, heaving with sobs. He feels Tony's soothing fingers at the back of his hair, stroking and petting and comforting.

Thank god they're almost home because the cries are becoming less and less controlled. When they pull into the garage of the tower Steve doesn't wait for his husband; he climbs out of the car and makes his way hastily up to their floor. Tony doesn't know whether to run after Steve or let him go, so he remains sitting alone in the dark garage, the only light coming from the arc reactor nestled in his chest. Steve's presence seems to have stayed behind long after he left the car because Tony can still hear his cries echoing as Jarvis remains eerily silent.

Today wasn't supposed to turn out this way. The weather was predicted to be beautiful; cold but bright and sunny so Jarvis' morning weather report threw them for a loop. It's 39 degrees and raining three days before Thanksgiving. It was just supposed to be a routine appointment. Everything was supposed to be fine but it's just not.

They already had a name picked out for their son. First name Peter, middle name Parker. Peter Parker Stark-Rogers. Steve was due on Valentine's Day. They had already started on the nursery. They already had a _baby shower_ planned. How Tony was convinced to help plan a fucking baby shower with butter mints and finger sandwiches and blue and red invitations and lace fucking doilies he still doesn't even know. Yes he does; his well-mannered, beautiful, wonderful Steve asked him to and Tony grudgingly complied.

Sitting in the garage isn't going to make things better or easier but it seems to be the only solution at the moment. Eventually Tony wills himself to get out and take the elevator up to their floor. His phone continues to vibrate in his pocket periodically as it has done all day. Tony doesn't have to look; it's probably Pepper or Bruce wanting to know how the appointment went. As soon as he hits their floor Tony takes his coat off and tosses it onto the sofa before speaking.

“Jarvis, silence all incoming calls."

Jarvis's tone reflects Tony's mood as he asks, "Is everything alright, sir?"

"No." He walks down the hallway, toeing off his shoes in the bedroom and calling out, "Cap?"

But Tony hears soft whimpering sounds coming from the would-be nursery and of course Steve would be in there. When Tony finds him he's changed out of his clothes and back into a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. He sighs when he notices the blue porcelain piggy bank that Clint had given them smashed to pieces on the floor. Tony hates seeing Steve like this: sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall and slumped over like a dead body.

Tony walks quietly through the nursery, sitting down next to Steve with a grunt.

Finally Steve acknowledges his husband, voice fading almost immediately after speaking, "Tony..."

Tony wraps his arms around Steve and hushes his noises, fingers playing with his blond hair.

Steve leans against him and murmurs, "It hurts."

"I know," Tony whispers, "I know it hurts."

"He was _fine_. He was _healthy_! If the goddamn serum-"

This is horrible; Tony doesn't know what the fuck he's doing because he's never had to be the strong one before.

He comes up with, "We don't know for sure if it's the serum. But we'll get through this. One day, one hour, one minute at a time. We'll get through it and we'll eventually be okay."

Steve can't even breathe through his nose anymore. He wipes his cheeks and bloodshot eyes, the cries finally diminishing for the moment.

"He was kicking yesterday, Tony. We felt him _last night_."

Tony closes his eyes and when he does, two lonely tears slip down his cheeks, "I know."

Two more tears follow and the pattern repeats itself until Tony is crying silently. He emits a shaky sigh, "What do you want to tell everyone?"

"I can't. I can't tell them. I'll- Tony, I can't."

"I'll call them later. Or have Jarvis do it," Tony presses his lips into Steve's hair, "What do you wanna do? Do you want to wait a few hours and think about it or-?"

"I thought they said I could go into labor naturally."

"Yeah, but that could take days. If we wait that long he may not-" 

Tony doesn't have to finish his sentence. But Steve feels like 26 weeks is not long enough for him to carry and know their baby boy. And it isn't.

Steve quietly admits after a while, "I don't want to be pregnant with our dead baby on Thanksgiving."

"Alright." Tony smooths Steve's hair back from his forehead and presses a sweet kiss in the same place, "I'll start making calls."

Gently, Tony twists his way out of Steve's arms and back into the kitchen. He sits down at the bar with a glass of whiskey, his cell phone and arguably one of the worst headaches he's ever experienced. He lets Doctor McGrath know they're on their way back for the induction and then he starts returning calls. Or call, rather, because Bruce is the only one he can talk to about this, the only who could maybe, possibly understand what they're going through.

Bruce picks up on the third ring, "Hey, Tony, how'd the appointment go?"

Tony doesn't respond right away. He throws back the rest of his whiskey and sighs, "Not well."

"Is everything-"

"Peter's dead," Tony admits. It sounds so surreal. "He died, Bruce. He was fine last night. He was kicking and- there was no heartbeat this morning. They did an ultrasound and, well..."

Bruce is caught totally off guard because Tony doesn't even sound like himself, "Oh, Tony, I- how's Steve?"

"He's taking it really hard; he completely lost it on the way home. I've _never_ seen him cry and he was totally hysterical."  
  
"Where are you now?"

"At the tower; they sent him home but we're going back to the hospital to have him induced. He doesn't want to still be carrying Peter on Thursday. Can't say I blame him."

"Do the plans for cooking at your place still stand?"

"I don't know. It depends on how things go. I think it'd be good for us to have a distraction. I'll talk to Steve and let you know."

"Did they give you any reason why it may have happened?"

"Not yet. They'll do tests and everything after he delivers."

"I'm so sorry, Tony. Is there anything I can do for you? For Steve?"

"Let the team know. Tell Fury I'll be out of commission for a while. Call Pepper, too. Look, I've gotta get him back to the hospital but I just wanted to let you know what's going on."

"Alright. I'll be thinking of you both."

Tony sighs sadly, "Yeah." He ends the call, tossing his phone somewhere he surely won't remember later and goes into the bedroom.

"Steve?"

A wavering reply comes from the closet, "I'm almost ready."

Tony changes into a t-shirt, flinging his dress shirt and tie on the floor in the process. Steve emerges from the closet with a small duffel bag and more tears in his eyes. Tony stops by the kitchen to grab his cell phone and on the way down to the garage it continues to hit Tony hard; their baby is dead. Baby Stark-Rogers will never know his uncles or his Aunt Tasha or celebrate his birthday or coo or walk or win an award in school. 

Tony just _breaks_.

* * *

 

Steve is admitted and assigned to a room half past six o'clock. They were supposed to be able to check into a room right away but somehow things got screwed up. It would have been much later but Tony decided it would be best to march up to the admission desk and throw his name around a little and play the 'we-just-lost-a-baby' card so they could have privacy.

Presently Steve is digging through his duffel bag, seemingly frustrated.

"Damn it," he mutters.

"Hm?"

"I forgot my iPod."

Tony digs in his coat pocket, not looking up from is cell phone as he hands it to his husband, "I picked it up off the table on my way out."

"Thanks." Steve heaves his still-pregnant body onto the hospital bed, sticking one ear bud in his left ear with a sigh.

"You should rest," Tony suggests, "You need anything?"

Steve smiles sadly, "I'm usually the one taking care of you."

Tony looks up from his phone, soft brown eyes connecting with pale blue ones. He doesn't want to admit how hard it is to be strong and sensible and selfless. Tony can't imagine having to do this all the time like Steve does. He'll have to work on that.

"You can't always take care of everything. I'm more than capable, I just never do because you're always here to do things for me. So now it's my turn to take care of you."

"In that case, I could use a hot cup of tea."

Tony smiles weakly, "Sure, Cap."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pregnant!Steve flashback sex.

Tony watches Steve sleep for at least an hour. He honestly doesn't know what to expect from here on out. Things were so good for them. Especially after they found out Steve was pregnant. And the sex was always phenomenal.  
  
 _Steve lifts his book up enough so that he can glance down at his husband. "Tony, I want brownies."_  
  
 _Tony, who has been furiously typing on his tablet, glances up with a frown. "Are you reading a book?" It's a rhetorical question. "You are probably the only person left in America who still reads physical books. You know they make Kindles for that now."_  
  
 _Steve shrugs. "I like the feel of a real book in my hands."_  
  
 _"I could make you-"_  
  
 _He frowns, "I like real books."_  
  
 _Tony pauses to observe their current position; Tony is lying stretched out on the couch with his head in Steve's lap._  
  
 _"When the hell did we get so domestic?"_  
  
 _Steve smiles faintly, resting his hand on the side of Tony's face, "When you asked me to marry you."_  
  
 _"I only married you for the good of the country."_  
  
 _Steve chuckles with a shake of his head and it slips out, "I love you."_  
  
 _"Yeah, yeah." Tony grins, "Just so you know, you are so much more lovable with my child inside of you."_  
  
 _Steve rolls his eyes._  
  
 _"No, seriously. Which, shouldn't it be the opposite? Because let's face it; morning sickness has been kicking your sweet ass for the past 2 months. Not that I'm complaining because you don't nag me to do shit anymore and you're a lot more enjoyable when you're this... bubbly?"_  
  
 _"Happy." Steve traces the crow's feet at the corners of Tony's eyes, still smiling fondly, and takes his tablet away._  
  
 _"Hey!"_  
  
 _"Tony." He puts both his book and the tablet on the end table, something hard pokes Tony's ear and Steve's biting his lip. And then it's..._ oh _._  
  
 _"Come here." Tony sits up, pressing his mouth to Steve's and he isn't shy; he pushes his tongue between those perfect lips and Steve moans, he fucking whines. And Tony marvels at how quickly Steve unravels._  
  
 _He breaks the kiss long enough to pant, "Me on top."_  
  
 _Tony sits up on the couch and unbuttons his pants, sliding them down just enough for his cock to spring free. Steve sits down, straddling his lap and Tony spreads his legs for easier access._  
  
 _Callused hands slide up under Steve's shirt, over his bloated belly and up to those -_ yes _\- those sensitive nipples that perk and ache with arousal at the slightest touch. His mouth falls into an 'O' shape and he bucks his hips into Tony's stomach._  
  
 _"Oh, Tony."_  
  
 _He- Tony_ growls _and grabs at Steve's shirt, "Off."_  
  
 _Steve complies and he's rewarded generously when Tony's mouth lunges for his nipple, sucking and pulling and worshiping with his mouth and Tony literally shoves one hand down Steve's gray sweat pants, squeezing that round, perfect supersoldier ass. He lands a harsh slap with the other hand and Steve's breath hitches, his fingers tightening in Tony's dark hair._  
  
 _"More," he demands and Tony complies because Steve is a hot mess of pregnant hormones and pent-up sexual arousal. One more slap, then two more, and Steve manages to get a hand beneath them, working diligently at his husband's cock. He stops only long enough to raise up, slip out of his sweatpants and toss them carelessly to the side._  
  
 _Without warning Tony is shoving fingers in Steve's mouth and he moans softly at the intrusion, cheeks hollowing as he sucks greedily like a filthy whore that Tony loves to pretend he is. He finds Steve's pulse with his lips, just there, and sucks against the gorgeous skin. He withdraws his fingers from Steve's mouth with a wet pop and abruptly pushes three of them up into Steve who groans because his ass is so inviting- so slick and open and ready, always._  
  
 _"Tell me you love it," Tony gasps lightly, "You love it when I fuck you?"_  
  
 _"Yeah." He tilts his hips and Tony's fingers brush just there and his breath hitches, "Oh god, Tony, please."_  
  
 _"Alright, gorgeous."_  
  
 _His fingers slip out and his cock immediately takes their place and Steve writhes on Tony's lap. He lets out a shameless moan that echoes throughout the entire floor. Tony leans forward and bites at Steve's shoulder. His hands slide around Steve's waist and are those love handles? It's at this moment that he notices for the first time that Steve has curves. Not just intricately defined muscles but curves. Tony equates that to Steve not being able to continue his rigorous workout due to his delicate condition. And he's been eating so much more, not exactly healthy things, but anything battered, fried, baked or soaked in butter._  
  
 _Steve is entirely dissatisfied by Tony's current distracted state so he pushes desperately with a groan, "Come on." He presses his knees into the couch to give himself some leverage._  
  
 _"Oh, right."_

 _Tony takes the hint, bringing his own legs closer together and fucking up into Steve, who shifts his hips to meet the thrusts and yes, he finds that spot, and he grinds onto Tony so the constant pressure sends him over the edge. He pumps his cock steadily and he's there, ropes of semen spurting onto his_ belly _and he squeezes Tony when he comes. Tony spills into Steve with a string of filthy words that leave would Steve speechless had he not been accustomed to this a long time ago._  
  
 _Steve's chest is heaving and he leans into Tony, wrapping his arms around his neck, and Tony sighs appreciatively._  
  
 _"You make it so easy," he laughs._  
  
 _"Again," Steve demands and when Tony looks down and he grins because he's jealous of Steve's refractory period._  
  
 _"Later."_  
  
 _"Now."_  
  
 _He grabs for Tony's wrist and brings it back and Tony pulls out, replacing his cock with his fingers this time and Steve sighs contentedly. First three fingers and that isn't enough so Tony adds a fourth and they're buried deep, up to the third knuckle. They slide in and out easily, the tips of them barely curled enough to stroke just there. Steve moans when Tony puts the slightest amount of pressure there and his hand is wrapped around himself, pumping rapidly as Tony's constant prodding sends him closer to the edge._  
  
 _The moan is sultry in a way, so low the Tony barely hears it. He grinds down and Tony's- his entire hand slips inside and Steve shutters, coming once again, and he collapses against Tony, his heart pumping and chest heaving._  
  
 _Tony asks with wide eyes, "Did my fist just-?"_  
  
 _Steve nods and says quietly, "Thank you."_  
  
 _Tony just laughs._


	3. Chapter 3

Steve's coated in a thin sheen of sweat, knees pulled back and legs spread open. Induced labor isn't anything like natural labor as the contractions come one on top of another without any substantial breaks. He's been at this for 12 hours and now it's time for the bis moment. Tony is up by his head of the bed looking away intentionally; he's seen enough of Steve to map out every hair and muscle but somehow watching Steve push their dead baby out of his body is oddly intrusive. But Tony is content to stand up here, his fingers in Steve's hair, knowing better than to let Steve hold his hand because he is entirely capable of breaking it.

The level of pain should be nearly unbearable but Steve opted for an epidural. His heart already hurts enough to weaken the strongest of men and he didn't need any physical pain on top of that.

Suddenly there's a strange sort of pressure.

"I need to push," Steve announces quietly.

He looks at Doctor McGrath who nods, "Go ahead. Push and count to 10."

The head is out with brief determination and the rest of the body follows shortly after. Peter doesn't look exactly as Tony imagined he would. He's small and red and wrinkled. And limp.

Steve glances up at his husband who is wiping at his face. Tony turns away from him, burying his face in his hands because the hospital room is oddly silent. He doesn't feel like breaking down in front of everyone; he'd never forgive himself for it. But Peter should be crying and the nurses should be telling Steve what a good job he's done and Tony should be hovering and taking as many pictures as he can.

Within a few minutes Doctor McGrath begins to gently massage Steve's distended belly. As the contractions slow down in intensity and frequency he eventually expels the afterbirth. Steve is still sweaty and his vision blurry as his doctor pulls Tony into the hallway.

Dr. McGrath begins, "I'm so sorry for your loss. You do know that you have options. If you wish to have some time with Peter before you say goodbye that opportunity is completely available. As soon as we're done with the exams we'll give you and Steve some time alone." He's talking in soft tones but nonetheless Tony pulls the door closed. "You also have the option to have an autopsy performed."

"We are definitely going to do that. I know Steve will want a memorial," Tony glances at the door when he hears his name, "I've gotta get back, but thank you."

He turns and walks through the door just as Peter is taken out. Tony smiles weakly at his husband who is now sitting up halfway in the bed.  
  
"Hey, Cap. How d'you feel?"

Steve puts a hand to his deflated belly, "Empty..."

"They said we could have some time with him after they're done with the tests. You wanna see him? He- he doesn't look- he's..." For the first time in his life Tony Stark-Rogers can't find the right words to tell Steve that their beautiful baby is not so beautiful anymore.

"Yeah." Steve stares down at his lap. His lip quivers and he brings an arm up over his face. He wants to stop crying but he just _can't_.

"Steve," Tony whispers, sitting down on the side of the bed. He hugs his captain tightly, stroking the back of his hair. "We're gonna get through this, Cap. We'll be okay."

Steve's speech is slowed, not quite slurred, and it doesn't even sound like himself. His body tells him he needs to sleep but his mind is telling him to stay awake.  
  
"I want a service, Tony," Steve's so quiet, "I want to bury him."

He nods, "Okay. We can do that."

"When the tests come back- if they're normal I want-"

He stands beside the bed and leans over, hugging Steve tightly.  
  
"Sleep," Tony breathes against his ear. "We can talk later."

Steve tugs lightly at his husband's hand, "Lay with me."

He turns onto his side slowly and Tony climbs onto the bed beside him, spooning against his strong back. Steve is asleep with minutes but Tony can't even close his eyes, can't even fathom sleeping when there's so much to do. But still he stays with Steve rests until what seems like hours later. Tony only stirs when Doctor McGrath knocks quietly at the door frame, uncurling himself from Steve's body as he somewhat unsteadily walks into the hall.

"How are you doing with everything?" the doctor asks quietly.

"I have no idea," Tony murmurs. He honestly doesn't; he's just _numb, "_ We've never been through this- _anything_ like this before. Things have always been so easy. What- what's the next step?"

"We can order an autopsy but I doubt they can give you any better reason than I can. My guess is it was a problem with the placenta. Do you want to go ahead and schedule one?"

Tony nods. "Steve wants- we want to see Peter. I'll wake him."

The doctor nods, telling Tony that one of the nurses will be there with him soon, and when Tony walks back into the quiet room Steve's awake.

"You're awake," he observes, "they're gonna bring him in a few minutes."

Steve nods just barely. "Okay."

Tony takes a seat beside Steve on the edge of the bed and sighs softly. They're silent until one of the nurses walks back in with their silent bundle. She places baby Peter in Steve's arm and walks out without another word, closing the door on her way.

Steve looks down at the small, red, wrinkly baby. The first thing he notices is that Peter has all 10 fingers, all 10 toes. He smiles faintly, tucking the blanket under his chin.

"He-" Steve's voice cracks and he doesn't try to say anything else.

No one even knows how Steve turned a selfish, adult toddler into the person Tony Stark-Rogers is. Of course he's still selfish and inconsiderate to everyone else. But not to Steve because Steve is... well, _everything_. Tony never considered having kids until Steve came into the picture, made Tony think, made him _want_ to have another human life to be responsible for. It took a while for Steve to convince Tony that despite his daddy issues he had the ability to be a good father if he wanted to be. But Steve did, and Tony's thankful for that.

With his head on Steve's shoulder he murmurs, "He's so small."

"You wanna hold him?"

Tony nods and takes their son gently, cradling him close. Despite everything that's happened he's grateful for this time they are allowed to spend together as a grieving couple. Steve leans against Tony, wiping away a stray tear from his cheek.   
  
"I want to go home," he says quietly.

"I know." Tony turns slightly, brushing his lips over Steve's hair, "Did you still want everyone to eat at the tower on Thursday?"

He gives a curt nod, "It's fine."

"If you don't want-"

"It doesn't matter either way. We still have to eat regardless. We can't just stop everything because Peter died.”

"Steve..."

Steve settles down again, on his back this time with baby Peter clutched to his chest. He says miserably, "It's not going to get better any time soon. Why pretend like it's going to?"


	4. Chapter 4

_November 21_

Tony pulls into the garage, turning the car into its designated parking spot and cutting the engine. "Go ahead, I'll be up in a minute." Steve needs to sleep and Tony hasn't slept in 72 hours. But that's nothing new.

Steve looks down at his hands. "Are you really coming up or are you going to the lab?"

Silence.

"Tony..."

"What?"

Steve lets out a long, exhausted sigh. "I know it's hard for you to wrap your head around how I'm feeling but just... hear me out. I know you want a distraction from me and Peter but I need you right now more than ever. This isn't going to go away any time soon and I need you to be with me through this. So please, don't shut me out because you're the only person who can fix me."

Tony does his best to push all of his thoughts to the back of his mind for the time being. Steve needs him and he can't really argue with what he said. He reaches up and strokes Steve's cheek with the back of his fingers. "Okay."

They make the silent trip up to their floor and Tony drops Steve's bag at the foot of the bed before walking into the bathroom. "Give me a minute."

Tony emerges from the bathroom in a standard black t-shirt and a pair of boxers. He climbs into bed, settling on his back as Steve folds himself into Tony's side, resting his head against the arc reactor in his chest. It's shouldn't be comfortable; it's bright and hard, but for Steve it's home, and the sound always helps him sleep. He realizes that he can once again sleep somewhat on his stomach and the tears sting at the back of his eyes.

"I love you, baby," Tony breathes, running his fingers through Steve's hair. He sighs deeply, dragging his hand over Steve's shoulder blades soothingly, "I'm so sorry this happened..."

Steve lets out a shaky breath, "I'm sorry I lost Peter."

"Steve," Tony snaps, forcing his husband to look up at him, "This is _not_ your fault. Do you understand me?"

Steve's teary blue eyes look away and Tony cups his face gently, "I just can't help but feel-"

"Don't do that to yourself. It's not your fault."

Steve nods, still unsure, but doesn't say anything further and he sinks down into Tony's arms once again.

* * *

Steve wakes up, blinking slowly and realizing that he's no longer sleeping on Tony; his head is on a pillow and it's dark outside.

"Jarvis, lights, please." Steve squints when the room is lit up and he sees a vase of roses on the dresser. He walks to them, smiling faintly, and wanders into the living room where Tony stretched out on the sofa. His face lights up instantly when he notices Steve.

"Hey, sleeping beauty."

"What time is it?"

"Half past six. You slept the day away, gorgeous. Come here."

Steve obeys, curling up next to Tony on the couch and sighing contentedly when Tony wraps his arms around him.

"You bought me roses," Steve says quietly.

"Yeah." Tony shrugs, pressing a kiss to Steve's temple, "How're you feeling?"

"Same," he breathes. He wants to snap at Tony that he lost his fucking baby and he's going to be like this for a while. But he doesn't because Tony doesn't deserve that.   
  
"Have you eaten?"

Tony raises one eyebrow and grins, "Have you known me to ever eat voluntarily?"

Steve shakes his head silently and Tony's smile instantly fades because Steve is teary-eyed _again_. His nostrils flare with unsteady breaths as he tries his best to keep his composure but as soon as Tony kisses him and whispers his name, Steve _loses_ it. He lets out one small cry, pushing himself further and further into Tony's welcoming, comforting arms.   
  
He groans, "Tony, I can't..."

"Can't what, babe?"

"Can't stop thinking, can't stop- I _feel_ him. I can still feel him inside of me, kicking and moving. The way he would kick and wake me up when he heard Jarvis in the morning. I hate it, I hate all of this and I can't stop crying all over you."

Steve rests his head against Tony's shoulder, his breath trembling and uneven. Tony doesn't know if he can ever get over seeing Steve so defeated and torn apart. He's trying his best; honestly, he is. He bought Steve flowers and obeyed when Steve asked him not to go to the lab. But he doesn't know what to do beyond that and he definitely doesn't know what to say but he'll try his best.

"I know," Tony murmurs, "I know it hurts. I don't expect for either of us to get over this anytime soon." He pulls back, his fingers brushing away the tears from Steve's cheeks, "Whatever it takes for you to vent, whatever makes you feel better. Just don't hold it in because it'll build up and, well, we both know what kind of damage you're capable of."

Steve lets out a small, sad laugh and Tony _beams_ , "Hey! There you are!" That one earns Tony a smile. "And don't worry about crying all over me. Just cry or scream or do whatever you need to do."

"Thank you," Steve manages to say. He settles back down into Tony's arms and says after a moment, "Even though we lost Peter... as horrible as this all is, at least we still have each other."

"You are absolutely right."

* * *

 

_November 22_

It's two o'clock when Natasha, Bruce, Thor, Clint, Tony and Steve are gathered around the table but it's so quiet and nobody is saying anything of much interest, small talk mostly, and Steve can't stand that they're all walking on eggshells. It makes him angry that no one has even given their condolences. He scowls down at his plate of food; why the hell is all of this just sitting on his plate? Steve isn't even _hungry_ and he wants to sleep. He abruptly pushes back from the table, dropping his napkin on top of his plate and storming out.

Tony glances up pleads, "Steve-"

"I'm not hungry," he snaps, accentuating it with the slamming bedroom door.

"Fuck."

Clint swallows nervously before looking across the table. "Tony, if we need to leave-"

"No," he shakes his head. "It's fine. He's alright. I'm sorry," he grumbles, following his husband and he's not surprised to find Steve face-down on the bed. Steve doesn't even move when he hears the door. "You said you'd be okay with this."

"I thought I would be."

Tony purses his lips, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and placing his hand on Steve's hip.

"It's uncomfortable," Steve explains quietly, sitting up, "Everyone's avoiding me."

"They just don't know what to say."

"Tony, they won't even _look_ at me. They aren't saying anything. I feel like I've ruined everyone's holiday."

Tony brushes his lips against Steve's, resting their foreheads together.   
  
"Always thinking of everyone else. You need to stop and think about you for a change. If you need to stay in here I'm sure they'll understand."

Steve shakes his head, "No, I'll be okay."

He raises his eyebrows, "You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

So Steve follows Tony back into the dining room and Tony pretends not to notice when Steve scoots closer to him. Steve takes comfort just being next to Tony and he's finding himself becoming increasingly clingy these past few days. But who could blame him?

After the meal and during dessert time everyone begins to loosen up. Clint is busy flicking pecans at Natasha and Tony and Thor have already devoured one of the pumpkin pies. Steve is still sullen as he wanders idly into the kitchen to find Bruce picking at the platter of sliced turkey.

Steve clears his throat, "Doctor Banner?"

Bruce turns around, startled to see Steve standing against the opposite counter; he hadn't heard him come in.   
  
"Oh hey, Cap."

He rubs nervously at the back of his neck, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

Steve's entire body flushes red and he can't believe why he's asking Bruce. He could ask Jarvis to find out, but Bruce is here and Steve has the courage and he doesn't recall anyone telling him in the hospital.   
  
"How, um, how long will- am I going to bleed for?"

Bruce blinks once. Bleed? Then it clicks.   
  
"Oh, it- it could be anywhere from two to six weeks. It really depends on your body. Everyone is different."

Steve nods to himself, his arms crossed over his still-distended belly, and he doesn't say anything else. Bruce glances down at the counter and then back up at Steve.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Steve shakes his head and quietly excuses himself, slipping away from the party and into his baby boy's silent nursery.


	5. Chapter 5

_November 28_

"Come here," Tony murmurs softly, reaching up to adjust Steve's tie as he drops his arms in defeat. Steve doesn't know whether it’s the fact that he can't remember how to tie a tie or if he just doesn't care enough to finish it. It was hard enough to get out of bed and showered and dressed.

Tony pushes the tie up, adjusting it just a little and he kisses Steve softly, "You ready?"

"Yeah."

The trip down to the garage is silent and by the time they pull out onto the busy streets of New York Tony is totally encompassed by thoughts.

Peter's autopsy came back four days ago and there was no identifiable cause of death. Not knowing why Peter died bothered Tony more than anything and gave him even less of reason to believe that God couldn't exist. Steve doesn't let on but inside he's starting to wonder if God is real because what kind of God would wish this kind of loss on anyone? Steve tries his best to get better, doesn't sleep as often as he did after they first returned from the hospital but he still can't get the motivation to do much else besides exist.

Tony is dealing with the loss in his own way. Down in the lab he has two framed pictures on his desk: one of him and a very pregnant Steve at a gala and the other is the last 3D sonogram they had of Peter. Steve hasn't seen them yet and Tony hopes he never does because he may never live down to the fact that he went and bought picture frames.

As they arrive at the funeral home Steve hesitates to get out of the car but he finally does, walking alongside Tony but still hanging back. Tony notices, pauses, and without really thinking about it grabs Steve's hand and intertwines their fingers. Steve smiles because Tony has never held his hand, especially in public, and it comforts him more than Tony will ever know.

They're guided to the proper chapel and Steve tries his best to keep his composure when he looks at the tiny white casket at the front of the room. It's closed, of course, and as soon as thy walk in the scent of flowers is overwhelming. There are so many surrounding the casket and gathered into the front of the room and they both take comfort in knowing that so many people are thinking about them. Tony and Steve opted out of a service and decided a visitation and a private burial for the two of them would be just fine.

They're alone in the room and Steve crosses over to the tiny casket. As he's reading the notes and cards from the flowers Tony suddenly finds his shoes entirely interesting. Hands shoved in his pockets, staring at the hotel-style burgundy and gold carpet. He can't think of anything to say, nothing at all.

"Fury sent us flowers," Steve says softly from the other side of the room.

Tony purses his lips and crosses over to Steve, hands still in his pockets, "I'll be damned."

Steve actually laughs a little, "Tony..."

Tony pulls his hands from his pockets and brings them up to cradle Steve's face tenderly, "I love it when you laugh. I love to make you laugh. I miss it."

"My laugh?" Steve asks, and Tony nods. Steve presses his lips to Tony's mouth lightly, "I'll get better. It'll just take time." They share another kiss and there's shuffling into the room as they turn to see Bruce and the rest of the team trailing into the chapel.

"Hey guys."

Handshakes and hugs are exchanged and after the formalities silence settles over the group again. Steve seems so far off in his own world that when Tony looks at him he doesn't even seem like the Steve that Tony knows. He murmurs something about going to the bathroom and as soon as he's out of ear range Tony sits down in one of the pews, covering his face with his hands.

Clint takes a seat next to him, "Are you doing alright?"

"Getting by," Tony sighs, "but no. Steve's so... not Steve right now. I haven't even seen a blink of our Captain since this entire thing started. I don't- sometimes I can't even think of anything to say. I don't know what to say to him, I never know what to say."

"Tony, I don't think anyone knows what to say," Clint answers. "I know I don't. I don't know what to say when someone dies, much less a baby. But we're all thinking about you guys. Without Tony and Steve Stark-Rogers on the team we're nothing. We miss you two."

Tony gives a forced smile, glancing up at Clint, "Thanks, Barton."

Clint claps Tony on the shoulder, giving him a firm squeeze.

Pepper's voice from behind him somewhere as she calls, "Tony?"

Tony stands up, caught off guard by her hug and he stumbles back a bit.

"I'm sorry I haven't been over to see you before now. I just got back and-"

Tony hugs back briefly, "It's okay, Pep, don't worry about it."

"Where's Steve?"

"In the bathroom. He should be- he's right here."

"Steve," the redhead says softly, bringing him in for a genuine hug. She pulls back, straightening Steve's wrinkled tie. "I'm so sorry. I was just telling Tony that I'd have been to the tower but I just got back in town."

"Thank you," Steve manages to reply.

The evening continues on like this with trite condolences that Steve should covet more than he does. Nothing anyone can say is going to make this better, nothing will take the pain away and the only comfort he can find is when Tony takes his hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

Just before the night is up Pepper manages to corner Steve by himself at the front of the chapel. He's busying himself with reading the rest of the cards sent with the flowers when Pepper touches his arm gently.

"Steve?"

He gives a delayed turn of his head.   
  
"You sent these?" he gestures, referring to the arrangement orange lilies, purple iris, and dainty white daisies, "They're beautiful, Pepper, thank you."

She nods, searching for the right words to say. She starts once, and then a second time, "Are you doing okay?"

"As okay as I can be with the circumstances, I guess."

"Steve, I- I've wanted to tell you something for the longest time and I was waiting for the perfect moment that never seem to come. I've known Tony better and longer than anyone else and I never, in two hundred years, would have imagined that I would see him be so loving, so attentive to someone besides himself. He has been so sweet to you tonight. You changed him."

Steve's cheeks flush pink for just a moment.   
  
"I didn't change anybody," he protests. "Deep down Tony's a good guy. It just took someone with as much patience as I have to figure him out. You know, he- he always told me he didn't want kids. But I convinced him that he'd be a good father despite everything he told me. And now I feel like I've let him down."

"You had no control over this," Pepper replies.

"The serum-"

"Steve, the serum had nothing to do with it," Tony's voice comes from behind them and Steve turns. They're the last three in the chapel and Steve doesn't deny the urge to let the tears he'd been holding back slip freely down his cheeks. Tony sweeps his fingers under Steve's eyes and asks, "You ready to get going?"

Steve nods, thanking Pepper for coming and for her kind words, and Steve thinks a lot about what she said on the way home. He decides that Pepper is right; Tony isn't the same person he used to be. And honestly Steve still can't believe Tony held his hand in public. So as hard as all of this is to deal with Steve decides that he'll try his best to get over the loss of Peter. It won't be easy but Tony doesn't deserve to lose his son and his husband.

Steve is sprawled on the bed by the time Tony gets out of the bathroom and as soon as Tony hits the mattress Steve is cuddling up to him. He buries his nose deep in Steve's neck, pressing sweet kisses to his warm skin. When Tony stops Steve pulls back, running his fingers through Tony's damp hair.

"I need to talk to you about something," Tony says quietly.

"Hm?"

"I know this is- I mean, there's not ever going to be a good time to talk about this. But Steve, if we're gonna try for another baby we need to think about it. I mean, I'm getting-" Tony pauses as if he has to force himself to say the word, " _old_."

Steve smiles fondly and his fingers play with the gray hair at Tony's temples, "Not old, just older."

"If you don't want to try to have one we can always adopt. And it doesn't even have to be a baby; we could adopt an older kid. No pressure, but I want you to choose."

"But what about you? What do you want?"

Tony shrugs, "If you're willing to have another go at this baby thing I'll give it another try. You know what the doctor said about Peter, that nothing you did caused this to happen, so I'll trust you to make the call."

"I think adopting is a great idea but at the same time I want to have a child that is ours. I just want to wait a few months, maybe two or three, and then..."

Tony nods and presses a kiss to Steve's forehead, "Whatever you want."


	6. Chapter 6

_December 15_

"Tony..." Steve pushes halfheartedly at Tony, fingers gripping his hips loosely as Tony hovers over him. Steve thought he wanted this; he really thought he was ready. His body was physically ready a week ago but now that he's here, lying beneath Tony who is lavishly kissing his neck, skin on skin, he wants it to stop. Tony is inside of him and it hurts and it's uncomfortable and Steve really can't do this.

"Tony, stop."

He sits up, pushing Tony off maybe a little too roughly and he turns away, unable to force himself to look at Tony's face. This is so humiliating and he's embarrassed down to the core of his every being.

"Are you-"

"No," Steve snaps. He knows what Tony's going to ask so he doesn't bother letting him finish, "No, I'm not okay. And I won't be okay for a really long time. So please _stop asking me_ if I'm okay!"

Steve rustles the sheets, wrapping them around his waist as the newly-familiar awkward silence settles over them. Tony runs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath. He's certain he's never gone soft so quickly in his entire life. He knows Steve is having a hard time with Christmas coming up but it's getting _so old_. Tony's doing the best he can but he's so task-oriented and he's getting bored with this. He always seems to be in a good mood for the most part and that isn't fair because Steve can't ever be in a good mood anymore. Tony tries, he tries _so fucking hard_ to get Steve to cheer up, asks stupid questions that he knows the answers just to get Steve to talk and Steve resents him for that.

Steve finally murmurs, "I'm sorry." He's entirely defeated and he wants to cry so badly, just break down and sob, just crawl into a hole and sleep forever.

"I'm sorry," he whispers again, "I didn't mean to snap, I just..."

"I know," Tony replies quietly.

He reaches out to rest a hand on his husband's shoulder and when Steve flinches at his touch it's enough to break Tony's heart. Even then he slowly scoots behind Steve, leaning against his back and wrapping him in a warm embrace.

"I understand if you're not ready," Tony explains, chin on Steve's shoulder, "But I need you to tell me what's going on because as hard as I've tried, I can't read your mind. I hate seeing you hurt like this and I don't know what to do because you're so... _not you_. I'm at a loss here. You've gotta help me out, pumpkin."

Steve sighs out faintly, leaning back into his husband's embrace, "I'll work on it."

Tony hums in appreciation before pressing a soft kiss to Steve's temple.

"I'm gonna go downstairs if you wanna come with. Or do- you don't mind, do you?"

"No, I'm gonna stay here and try to get some sleep. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."

Steve turns his head, lightly kissing Tony's cheek before lying back down, stretched out on his back as Tony slips his pajama pants back on.

Tony hates that he feels the need to go create and build when Steve is falling apart right in front of him. But he can't fix Steve and he's slowly realizing that time is the only thing that will.

"You're sure you don't wanna come down with me?" Tony asks hopefully, "You can sleep on the pull out. Just for company so you're not alone."

"No, it's okay."

"I just wish you would try-"

"Tony, really. I'm fine, go ahead."

As soon as the words leave Steve's mouth he regrets them. He's thankful that it's dark or Tony could see the tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. Tony doesn't want to ask Steve to come with him again, doesn't want to nag, but when he enters the lab the quiet hum is deafening. He hesitates, not even sure that he wants to stay down here, but eventually crosses the room and takes a seat at his work table.

And then it's there, in his face, the blueprints for the interactive mobile he was building for the nursery. Even more upsetting is Peter's last 3D sonogram image and the picture of gorgeous, beautiful, glowing pregnant Steve. He reaches down, tracing his finger over the corner of the frame as something catches his eye. He picks up the red and blue invitation, scanning over it briefly.

_You are invited to a baby shower in honor of_   
_Steve Stark-Rogers_   
_December 15 at 1 o'clock in the afternoon_   
_at Stark Tower_   
_200 Park Avenue at East 45th Street_   
_Manhattan, NY_   
_Steve is registered at Pottery Barn Kids_

Tony can't believe that he didn't realize it sooner but it was supposed to be _today_. If Steve were still pregnant, if Peter were still alive, the baby shower would have been _today_. He has never felt like such shit in his entire life. He can't believe he forgot, he fucking forgot and he basically told Steve to stop moping around, just left him alone upstairs to stew in his depression.

Tony needs a fucking _drink_.

He has one and it isn't enough; it isn't even close to being enough. He promised he would get his drinking under control if Steve agreed to marry him but it's the only thing Tony can turn to because everything seems so hopeless. It's December, Steve's favorite time of year because he loves Christmas, and Tony couldn't even get him out of the tower to go shopping for a tree. So he moves to the sofa, whiskey in hand, and just breathes.

Alone upstairs Steve cries to himself quietly. He never knew he could be reduced to such a miserable mess of a person. He feels the anger sometimes, feels the need to smash things and destroy and he vaguely wonders if that's how the Hulk feels. But most of the time Steve feels defeated, as if nothing anyone could do to him could make him feel any worse, any less desperate, any less hopeless, and less _dead_.

Steve pushes himself onto his feet, wrapping the comforter around his body and wearily walking out of the bedroom. He needs Tony, needs to be around him, regrets telling him to go downstairs alone and he sincerely hopes Tony hasn't done anything stupid like flee the tower.

His heart sinks even further when he reaches the floor and the silence is deafening; he figures Tony's gone. When he sniffles it echoes and it's _so cold_ down here that Steve wishes he would have worn socks.

Tony lifts his weary eyes, seeing Steve on the opposite side of the room.

"Hey, baby."

"Tony?" Steve calls softly.

"On the couch."

Steve crosses the room, standing in front of Tony who's on the sofa, head resting in one hand and a glass tumbler in the other. He grabs the tumbler and the bottle of whiskey from where it rests between Tony's legs, setting them on the ground before curling up next to his husband.

"Thought you stopped drinking," he mumbles.

"I know," Tony sighs, "I know. I just... but I'm not drunk. I thought you were asleep."

Steve tilts his head back so that it's lying on Tony's shoulder and Tony notices that his eyes are red rimmed and puffy. It'd be an understatement to say that seeing Steve cry breaks his heart and Tony doesn't really want to think about it so he stretches an arm around Steve's shoulders, his fingers playing in Steve's blond hair affectionately.

"Steve, I- I didn't realize that today would have been the shower. I can't believe I forgot, I didn't realize until I came down here and sat down. The invitation was there and..." He glances over again and there are more tears, always more tears.

"It's fine," Steve whispers brokenly, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

"I'm so worried about you, Cap," Tony chokes out, "I didn't know- I never imagined I would ever, ever have to see you like this. That makes me sound selfish, I know, but I just- I'm at such a loss. I try to cheer you up and I end up making a bigger mess of you than you already are. I feel like such a fucking loser for the first time in my life."

It isn't supposed to sound like that; it really isn't. But somewhere deep inside of Steve is _fuming_ because Tony referred to him as a mess. He wants to protest but he doesn't have the energy, can't even find the words to fight back. He's losing his grip on everything that matters and on everything that they could lose if things don't get better. But Steve doesn't really see any reason to get better, doesn't even have the will to _try_.

"You're not a loser, Tony. I wouldn't know what to do either. I don't even know what to do with myself. It's a nightmare. I do okay for a few hours and then I can just be watching TV and it hits me again even harder than before. It's like we were given such a wonderful gift and then without any rhyme or reason Peter was ripped away from us. I think I'm fine one minute and then the next it's like my whole world is crashing down and I can't do anything to stop it."

With his lips pressed to Steve's hair Tony murmurs, "Let's go back up and go to bed. I can't- I'm too tired to function."  
  
He stands up, holding a hand out to Steve who is still wrapped in his blanket.

"Come on, my little burrito of sadness."

With the faintest smile Steve takes it and stands to his feet, following Tony helplessly.


	7. Chapter 7

_December 21_

As soon as Tony hits the door the sound of the television fills his senses. News, Steve always watches the news. He drops the briefcase by the door, sliding his jacket off and throwing it in a heap on the floor.

"Cap?"

A muffled response comes from the opposite side of the couch and Tony makes his way over, peering over the back of the sofa. He smiles, fond, and reaches down to stroke Steve's hair affectionately.

"Have you even moved since I left?"

Steve doesn't tear his eyes away from the television to reply, "No."

"How was your day?"

"Fine," comes Steve's short reply and it's clear to Tony that Steve has no intention of holding up his end of the conversation.

"Can you believe Fury called us in four days before Christmas?" Tony continues and he's doing that thing again where he asks Steve stupid questions. "Everyone was asking about you by the way."

Steve is only half listening to what Tony says. Normally that wouldn't bother Tony but he perceives it as being impeccably rude.

"Steve."

"What?"

"Are you even listening to me?"

Steve hesitates, turning his head to look up at Tony. He asks once more, "What?"

"Unbelievable."

With a heavy sigh Tony walks out of the room and down the hall to the master bedroom, pausing only to notice that the door to Peter's would-be nursery is open. He's 110% sure it was closed before he left this morning. He pauses in the doorway for a moment before spinning on his heel and marching back into the living room. With a flick of his hand Tony powers the TV off and stands in front of it, arms crossed across his chest.

"You- were you in the nursery? I'm sure the door was closed when I left and now it's open."

Steve looks away and that's answer enough.

Tony stutters once before pausing and starting again.  
  
"You need to get some help," he says decidedly.

Steve's confused. "Help?"

"Steve, this- I don't know how to help you. You're obviously having a really hard time dealing with Peter's death and I just want you to get better."

"What if I don't want to get better?"

"But you can't just-"

"I'm not you, Tony, I have to deal with this. I can't ignore it."

Tony runs a hand over his hair nervously and replies, "Jesus Christ, you think- I can't ignore it either but it's been _five weeks_!"

Steve stands up abruptly, shaking with rage because what the fuck, _five weeks_. Five weeks is _nothing_. He reaches down and impulsively flips the coffee table, the glass top shattering against the marble floor. His blue eyes wide with rage and nostrils flared with angry breaths. He's so pissed he can't see straight and he's grabbing anything; lamps, chair, end tables, _anything_ and smashing because destruction is the only thing on his mind.

"Five weeks?! What the hell is five weeks? That's- that's _nothing!_ I want my son back!" Steve booms, "I want my _son!_ "

Tony can't do more than stand and stare for a moment but now Steve is _sobbing_ on his knees in a crumpled heap of frustration and anger and sadness and despair. It looks like a scene from a bad movie; Steve's feet are scratched and cut from the glass and he doesn't give a shit, couldn't care less

Tony crosses over to him finally; the crunching of glass under his shoes the only noise between them. He can't say a word, doesn't think of anything that would even be sensible, he just kneels beside his husband with a hand on his back.

Steve sniffles, wiping at his eyes and there's a vague stinging sensation in his feet. He remembers the table, the end tables, the lamps, the chair and looks around frantically as if he suddenly forgot about the mess he just created. His heart sinks, mouth slack and eyes drooping. He parts his lips to speak but a strange, gasping sound comes out instead and he's suddenly exhausted.

"O-oh _god.._."

Tony kisses the side of Steve's head before murmuring, "I thought we agreed you wouldn't hold anything back."

"I'm sorry," Steve whispers miserably, "Tony, I'm so sorry, I didn't-"

"It's okay," he answers without much thought as he pauses to survey the damage, "I never liked those tables. Or the lamps. Or the chair..."

Steve turns into Tony's shoulder, reaching up to curl a fist in his dress shirt but Tony catches his fingers, kisses them and holds them, one arm still wrapped around his husband.

"Do you agree with me that you may need some help?"

"I-I might," he sighs in defeat but he doesn't really want to think about it. Instead he asks, "Can we go to the cemetery?"

Tony nods briefly, standing to his feet and pulling Steve up.

"I want to," Steve mumbles, "Could we stop for flowers?"

"Sure, Cap."

The drive to the cemetery is quiet except for the soft Christmas music playing on the radio. Tony can't stand it but didn't have the heart to protest when Steve reached to turn it on. Likewise, Steve chose a beautiful white poinsettia at the florist for Peter's grave and he cradles it in his lap protectively. Tony can't ultimately decide if that's either adorable or tragic. Or both.

Steve glances across the car at his husband and then down at his sacred plant. He's been feeling as if Tony needs to know why he's having such a hard time with things. His need to let Tony know _why_ far surpasses his want to stay quiet. He opens his mouth in attempt to talk but the only thing that escapes is a noise at the back of his throat that causes Tony to glance over at him. And now he has no choice but to say something.

"I know you don't understand this," he begins, "I don't expect you to because you- you weren't the one carrying him. It's different for me. I-I should be... he should still be inside of me alive and kicking. You didn't have to give birth to his dead body."

That last sentence shuts Tony up for a good minute or so. He finally shakes it out of his mind and replies, "I get that but the whole world can't stop turning just because we lost our baby."

Steve groans because Tony really doesn't get it.

"Tony, it- it's _different_ for me. I _knew him_ like you didn't and I feel like you're being a little unfair. Everyone grieves differently, Tony. I need you to understand that."

"I do," Tony answers, "I get it, baby, but- it's hard for me to see you like this because you've always been so strong."

"It's not like I'm doing this on purpose," Steve responds defensively, "Do you think I'd choose to feel this way if I had a choice? But I still- I cramp sometimes and I bled and my... I'm sore all over and the first days after we got home from the hospital my body reacted as if I had a baby to care for but I didn't. _I don't_ and it's like a really big slap in the face that 'hey, my baby died.'"

That shuts Tony up because he never even _thought_ of that. Never realized that Steve's body would react to Peter's birth as if nothing were out of the ordinary. He feels so guilty for not knowing sooner; he should have known because he's intelligent enough to process the information. He just didn't think about it.

Tony thanks some higher power that they're turning into the cemetery so he doesn't have to respond to Steve's statement. He pulls up along the sidewalk and they get out in the blistering New York winter, snow flurries whipping around them as Steve cradles his flowers close. The weather is supposed to get rough and they should be home in front of the fireplace. Tony hopes Steve realizes what a sacrifice he's making for him right now.

At the tiny grave site Steve kneels with his poinsettias, setting them down gently and brushing the snow off of Peter's temporary marker.

"H-hi, Peter," he begins.

Tony quirks an eyebrow but remains silent.

"It's me," Steve starts again, "But I guess you know that. Tony's here, uh, your dad? Your other dad. We never really talked about what you'd call us. I always thought you'd call me Dad, or Daddy. You'd maybe call him Pops because… I'm not sure why. Maybe the other way around."

Steve pauses to smile and hears Tony breathe a breath of amusement through his nose.

"I... well, I miss you, I guess. The way your little feet kicked my ribs. It's so hard because it's almost Christmas and I... I just really wish you were still here with us." He reaches up to his face, letting his gloves absorb the warm tears on his cold cheeks and rises slowly, turning to Tony and asking, "Did you wanna say anything?"

Tony doesn't trust his voice enough to try and talk so he shakes his head.

They retreat to the idling car and just before Tony pulls out Steve looks at him.

"Wait."

"What?"

"They'll die," Steve tells him as if it matters, "The poinsettias will die if we leave them. It's freezing."

"Steve, they're-" Tony glances at Steve's pleading expression before climbing back out of the car and stomping over to Peter's grave. He feels guilty for being bitter, he really does, but it's so damn cold and he can't feel his fingers when he picks up the pot of flowers. He turns to go back but pauses, looking down at the tiny marker.

"H-hey, Peter," Tony murmurs, his voice getting lost in the winter chill. It feels strange to talk to the little boy that he never really knew, Tony decides, but at the same time it's sort of therapeutic.

"Steve and I- we really love you, little guy. Um, well, your dad's still really torn up about this and I... I'm not enjoying it either. I remember when he told me he was pregnant. I was running around looking for something - I'm so busy all the time, you would have learned that – and your dad came in the bathroom. I wouldn't stand still long enough for him to tell me. So he just blurted it out and I thought he was joking. But I- in my heart I hoped he wasn't. We tried so long to have you, waited so long for you to get here and you were ripped away for no reason. We... we just really wish you were here with us."

Tony glances down at the pot of poinsettias before turning back toward the car.


	8. Chapter 8

_December 23_

Tony has been down in the lab almost all day and it surprises him when Jarvis' voice interrupts the programming of the formula he'd spent all afternoon on.

"Sir, Doctor Banner is at the door."

Tony pulls away from the screen, grabbing his glasses from his face and tossing them onto his desk.

"Buzz him in, J."

When Bruce walks in with a folder under his arm Tony stands to his feet. Unbeknownst to Steve, Tony had asked Bruce to take a look at Peter's inconclusive autopsy and Steve's test results and see if he could find anything the lab techs at the hospital may have missed. Bruce called Tony earlier this morning to let him know that he'd found something. He sounded bleak when he said he'd be over later.

"Hey," Bruce says quietly, sliding his folder onto Tony's table. He clears his throat, shifting on his feet and murmuring, "I can't stay long." His head suddenly whips around at the sound of high-pitched whining, only to see a yellow Labrador puppy in a wire kennel at the far corner of the room. "Is that-?"

"Steve's Christmas gift. What'd you find out? Let's not- don't bullshit me. Just tell me."

"It's- well, the only thing I could come up with is that with Steve's elevated testosterone and the serum-"

"Okay," Tony cuts in; he doesn't want to hear the rest of what Bruce has to say. Tony's almost angry at Bruce for saying what they both knew was probably truth. Tony concludes, "So basically it's our fault for trying to have a baby. Oh god, I can't tell him. He- he'll- oh fuck."

Bruce cuts in gently, "Tony, you've got to let him know."

"I'm not telling him," Tony snaps bitterly, "I can't do that. He'll never forgive himself, Bruce. He'll never be the same."

"He has the right to know!" Bruce tries to reason. "You need to tell him. What if you guys start trying again and he loses that baby too? Tony, you've _got to_. It's your obligation to him as his husband to-"

"He is _not_ an obligation," Tony snarls, his face dangerously close to Bruce. So close that Bruce can feel Tony's breath on his face.

"It's my goddamn choice if I want him to know or not. You go tell him, Bruce, why don't you? Go tell him how the serum- that it's our fault Peter's dead, how it's our fault for even trying."

Bruce lets out a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding, "Tony... you- you've got to tell him. I don't see that you have a choice."

Bruce is right; Tony knows that. He doesn't really have a choice. Even if he doesn't tell Steve, they stand a high chance of losing another child and neither of them could go through this again. And if he does tell Steve that he was the cause of Peter's death, Steve will never be able to function again.

"Look," Bruce begins quietly, "I just wanted to let you know what I found. I did what you asked so ultimately it's up to you whether or not you tell him. But Tony, Steve is a _good person_ and he puts up with a lot more than he should. Don't let him down, don't lose his trust."

"Yeah," Tony murmurs, standing up and walking Bruce to the elevator. He claps a hand to Bruce's shoulder, squeezing tenderly. "Well, thanks for stopping by."

"No problem. Bye, Tony. Tell Steve I said hi."  
  
"Will do," Tony mumbles, distracted, turning back to his screen and reaching for his glasses.

* * *

 

It's nearly midnight as Tony and Steve lay in bed. They've been here for a while and Tony hasn't been to sleep yet. He sits up, scrubbing a hand over his face briefly and glancing down at Steve. Steve usually dreams. Tony has noticed this not long after they started sleeping together and made the habit long ago of watching Steve sleep when Tony himself couldn't do so. But tonight is different because it's definitely not a pleasant dream. Steve's breathing is unsteady and soft groans are coming through his lips.

Tony is torn about whether or not he should wake Steve but the decision is made as Steve sits up suddenly. His hands feel around at his belly frantically and Steve quickly comes to the realization that he was, in fact, dreaming about still being pregnant. A defeated look encompasses his entire body and Tony stares at him.

"You were dreaming," he observes quietly.

Steve clears his throat and turns his back to Tony, sliding back under the heavy duvet, "Yeah."

"Are you alright?"

"Fine."

Tony frowns and stays still for a moment. He suspects that Steve is crying because his shoulders are trembling slightly. Tony runs a hand through his hair, standing up and adjusting his pajama pants.

"Do you want something to drink?"

"No, I'm fine."

Tony leaves the bedroom, making the trip down to his lab quickly. He wanted to wait until Christmas to give Steve his gift but he can't really think of a reason why it'd make any difference to do it now or two days from now.

Once in the lab the puppy that's been kept a secret for two days begins to whine at Tony's presence. Tony smiles faintly, releasing the pup and scooping him into his arms. He doesn't really like animals, he never has, but this one is so damn cute and Tony knows, he just _knows_ that Steve will love him.

Tony presses his lips into the puppy's fur lightly, carrying him back to the silent bedroom. He figures Steve is almost asleep again and goes to his side of the bed, putting the pup on its feet. He makes a bee-line for Steve, instantly burying his nose in Steve's neck. Steve groans at the feeling of something soft and wet lapping at his ear and rolls over, flailing an arm blindly in Tony's direction.

"Quit it," he whines softly.

Tony's voice booms from somewhere behind Steve, "It's not me."

Steve sits up wearily, rubbing at his teary eyes and the previously blurry yellow blob forms into the shape of a Labrador puppy that is seemingly glad to see Steve.

"What's this?" he asks with a smile, reaching out to pull the puppy into his lap. "Tony," Steve coos fondly, the tone of his voice begging for an explanation.

"Well, first of all, Merry Christmas. Or early Christmas? Whatever," Tony rolls his eyes dismissively, "Formalities." He leans over and presses a chaste kiss to his husband's lips.

"And look, before you start worrying about not getting me anything, it's fine. I know we agreed no gifts this year."

"So why is there a puppy in our bed?" Steve smirks. His voice is laced with feign irritation but it's clear by the smile on his face that he couldn't have woken to a better surprise.

"I just figured that with everything that's happened the past month we could both use a little extra something in the tower. I was gonna wait but, I couldn't."

He pauses to admire the way the puppy lunges for Steve's face and licks at it veraciously.

Tony reaches out, playfully tugging at the puppy's ear, "I also thought that maybe when you get back into the routine of things he could be your running buddy."

"But you hate animals."

Tony can't really argue with that, "It's okay, though. You like him, right?"

"He's adorable," Steve admits with a smile. He stops to wonder if Tony is doing this in an attempt to cheer him up. "But he isn't going to replace Peter."

"I know that. Oh, Steve, I know that," Tony looks to his husband sympathetically, "I'm not trying to replace Peter. I'm really not and it sort of- it hurts that you'd think that."

"No, I didn't mean that," Steve responds quietly as the puppy nips at his fingers playfully. "I don't think that, I just- I guess I'm trying to say thank you. He's sweet, Tony, I love him." He leans across the bed, placing one hand on Tony's knee and squeezing tenderly. Tony reaches to kiss Steve's cheek but Steve turns his head, catching Tony's mouth with his own.

Tony wraps an arm around Steve's neck, pulling him closer and shooing the puppy to the side in order to climb onto Steve's lap. He pushes gently until Steve is on his back and Tony gazes down at him lovingly.

"Were you crying earlier?" Tony asks softly, rubbing soothing circles on Steve's chest.

"A little. I- I had a dream about Peter. I was still-" Steve clears his throat, willing a batch of new tears from falling, "Peter was alive."

"You don't have to hide anything from me," Tony says slowly, "I know you're still hurting. It's okay for you to tell me. We could talk about it, if you want. I'll listen."

Steve smiles sadly, grabbing hold of Tony's hand as the puppy curls up at the foot of the bed. "I'm okay. Thank you though."

Steve sits up, wrapping his arms tightly around his husband and burying his face against Tony's shoulder. In turn, Tony loops his arms around Steve's neck, hugging him close as Steve tilts his head back to look up at his husband.

"You've been such a comfort to me through all this," Steve smiles, stealing a chaste kiss from Tony's mouth, "I wanted- you should know that."

"I'm glad to be of some help," Tony muses with a grin.

Steve decides to take advantage of Tony's cuddliness and lies down, pulling Tony on top of him. He pushes Tony over gently, rolling onto his side and curling up against his husband with his head on Tony's chest.

"Are things looking up?" Steve asks with a content sigh.

"I think so," Tony murmurs. He closes his eyes, nose against Steve's hair, and does his best to relax. Still, at the back of his mind is the fact that he will eventually have to tell Steve _why_ Peter didn't make it. Tony is dreading that.

 


	9. Chapter 9

_December 24th_

"Hey," Tony says, nudging Steve with his elbow.

Steve looks away from the television, which is currently playing _A Christmas Story,_ long enough to glance to the side.

Tony motions to the puppy that is currently curled up at the opposite end of the sofa, "Have you named him yet?"

"Not yet. Suggestions?"

Tony shakes his head, "No."

Steve frowns, not really sure why Tony would interrupt their movie watching to ask him such a question. He leans against Tony, resting his head against his shoulder and reaching up to touch his cheek tenderly. Instinctively, Tony turns and catches Steve's lips with his own. As they part and Steve brushes their noses together deliberately.

"We should go to the bedroom," he says softly.

"Oh?"

Steve nods, stealing another kiss from Tony's lips. Steve stands up, pulling Tony by the hand and leading him to the bedroom.

"Are you sure? Because last time you-"

"I _know_ what happened last time. I wasn't ready to have sex again but now I _am_ and I'm telling you, so why are you still wearing pants?"

Tony laughs, "You're right."

On the way to the bed they only pause long enough to shed themselves of clothing. Tony's knees hit the back of the mattress and Steve pushes him down, climbing up to straddle him. In turn, Tony reaches up to grip Steve's hips and Steve grins, grabbing Tony's wrists and pinning them above his head.

"Oh?" Tony smirks.

Without a word Steve leans down, pressing his lips to Tony's smirk briefly and placing a trail of open-mouthed kisses down to his clavicle. Tony manages to reach Steve's earlobe and suck at it briefly.

As Steve mouth slides down to Tony's chest he shifts, thrusting up lazily to meet the gorgeous flesh of Steve's ass.

"Come on, stop teasing," Tony whines softly.

"I'm not teasing," Steve replies innocently, bearing down against Tony's cock.

"Like hell you aren't," he groans, tugging at his wrists, "Steve, come on, let go. Be serious for a minute."

"That's funny coming from you," Steve answers. Tony's expression doesn't change so Steve complies with a look on confusion on his face and asks, "What?"

Tony stares up at his husband in silence. He should tell Steve about what happened to Peter; he really should. But doing so would result in ruining this – one of those sweet moments between them that they haven't shared in a long while – and Tony's pretty sure it would ruin their Christmas. And by the recent turn of events Steve seems so much better than he has been in the past month and he doesn't want to take that away. So he'll wait because a few days really aren't going to make any difference.

He reaches up with a smile, his hand cupping Steve's face gently.

"I just want you to know how much I love you. I would do anything for you, do anything to protect you."

Steve smiles fondly, turning to kiss the palm of Tony's hand.

"Your little moments of sentiment always seem to come at the most inopportune times."

"No," Tony argues pointedly, "I just wanted you to know. You may now proceed to suck my cock, if you wish."

"I'm good."

Steve lets out a bubbly laugh, dropping Tony's hand and sliding to the side. He reaches out, taking Tony's erect cock into his hand and, working quickly, he nearly brings him to climax. His hand stops and throws his right leg over Tony's waist, sliding onto his hips. Rising up, he reaches back and takes Tony's cock into his hand, holding it steady as he lowers himself down.

Tony groans at the tightness that surrounds his length as he reaches out, digging his fingertips into Steve's broad hips. Steve begins to ride him, putting his hands palms-down on Tony's chest, rubbing gentle circles and throwing his head back in ecstasy.

"S-so good," Tony pants, reaching up to his husband's mouth, "God, I forgot- forgot how _good_ you are."

Steve leans down so that Tony can remain inside of him, thrusting in and out steadily, and parts his lips for Tony's fingers. He licks them both a few times before hollowing his cheeks and sucking on them. With his free hand Tony shifts Steve by moving his hip and just as he does that the tip of his cock brushes against Steve's prostate.

Steve emits a low moan suddenly, releasing Tony's fingers and sitting up. He rotates his hips in desperate circles until Tony's cock hits his sweet spot once more. His eyes close momentarily and he demands, "Harder."

Tony complies, thrusting into the tight heat and Steve begins to pump himself erratically, feeling the sense of in the pit of his belly. He smears the pre-come over the head of his dick, thumbing the slit passionately and whimpering with each thrust his husband makes.

"Right there," Steve pants softly as the rush intensifies, "Right there, right there, right-"

The last part of Steve's sentence falls into a moan of Tony's name as he contracts against Tony and releases against his husband's toned abdomen, smearing the come with his cock as Tony's final thrusts grow careless. Tony comes with a quiet groan, staying fully inside of his lover for several seconds.

With a breathy sigh Steve slides to the side, his back to Tony. He's hit with a sudden wave of grief and he can't believe they just _did that_ like it's no big deal, like it isn't the first real sex they've had since before they lost Peter. He feels guilty for enjoying himself and covers his face with his hand shamefully.

"What?" Tony presses urgently, sitting up. Steve remains silent at the edge of the bed and Tony reminds him, "You said you were ready for this again."

"I know that," Steve snaps, turning to glare at Tony.

"Then why are you-"

Steve scowls, "Because I-I don't know. I can't explain it. Please, just be quiet."

Tony groans in frustration, settling down onto his side with his back to Steve and mumbling under his breath, "You are such a fucking woman sometimes."

"What?"

"Nothing," Tony says a bit louder. He sits up again, throwing his arms around Steve and hugging him relentlessly, "Please stop being so self-conscious. Why do you feel guilty for being happy?"

Steve stills, his eyebrows pulled together in confusion as he asks, "How did you-?"

"You've got your guilt face on," Tony replies smoothly, "And I can smell it on you. Spill it, pumpkin, what's wrong?"

Steve shrugs and Tony releases him, arms dropping lower to circle around Steve's waist.

"I feel like I'm disrespecting him or something. I know, I- it's stupid." Steve pulls out of Tony's arms completely, settling down on his back and Tony flails himself on top of Steve comfortably.

"Steve, if you feel guilty for having sex just because Peter died you might need to start seeing someone. I mean, I'm not a psychologist, but I'm pretty sure that isn't healthy. Or normal."

"I know," Steve admits.

Tony reaches up, pressing slow, thorough kisses to the underside of Steve's jaw, his left hand roaming freely across Steve's body.

Steve catches his wrist and holds it firmly, "Stop it."

"'Kay," Tony whispers compliantly.


	10. Chapter 10

_February 4th_

"What about Tony? How is he doing?"

Steve rubs his hands together nervously, emitting a long sigh. He's never liked any sort of appointments and these with his psychologist are definitely his least favorites as of late.

"Tony is," Steve breathes out, searching for the words that _won't_ make him seem like he's holding a grudge, "Tony is Tony. I mean, he was upset at first but I don't think he was ever as torn up about it as I was- _am_. But I know he cares. I know he worries about me a lot."

"Does he support you?"

Steve nods, worrying his lip nervously, "I'd say so. But, uh, he- he's drinking again. He thinks I don't- well, I'm not sure if he thinks that I don't know or he's just trying to hide it. But he'll get out of bed in the middle of the night and I can smell it on him when he comes back. I find liquor bottles that he's hidden around the tower."

Doctor Pozner nods and then reaches for a notepad. She scribbles for several moments before ripping the paper and offering it to Steve.

"I want you to take a look at one or two of these," she says, and Steve glances down to see that they're book titles.

"You don't even have to read the whole thing; you can just skim through it, see if any of this helps."

"Thank you," Steve nods, tucking the slip of paper into his pocket.

* * *

"Tony?" Steve calls from somewhere upstairs.

Tony rolls his eyes, idly wondering how long it's going to take him to realize that if Tony can't be found elsewhere, he'll be in the lab. He spins around in his chair, timing exactly how long it takes before Steve appears.

Forty-two seconds and Steve is in the room.

"Hey, how'd it go?" Tony asks, disinterested. He's only asking because he feels obligated to.

Steve shrugs a little, crossing over to the work table and leaning back against it, arms crossed.

"It was okay, I guess. Better than last time but again, she didn't really offer much insight and I certainly don't feel better."

Tony was done with this conversation long before it started and he's busying himself with Steve doesn't know what. Steve crosses the room, taking a seat on the couch and folding his hands in his lap. He’s wanted to talk about his due date but he can't ever seem to come up with an appropriate way to start the conversation. He doubts Tony would care anyway.

Steve's gaze floats around the room, finally settling on the floor and what seems to be the corner of a piece of paper peeking out from under the sofa. He hesitates but finally reaches down to grab it. But it isn't a paper; it's a folder. He opens it, thumbing through the pages that have his name and his medical information on them but he's never seen before. He flips through them, his heartbeat accelerating rapidly and by the time he gets to the very last page of Bruce's notes his hands are trembling.

"What is this?" he asks, standing to his feet, "Tony?"

"What is- oh. Um, where'd you get that?" Tony frowns, not really sure of what to say next, but it's okay because Steve _knows_.

"You knew why Peter died and you didn't tell me?"

Tony holds out his hands defensively, "Look, before you start- you've got to believe me, I was just trying to protect you."

"I don't need protection," Steve snarls, tossing the folder in Tony's direction as its contents float to the ground. "Goddamn it, Tony, I'm not a child! How long?" he demands to know, pointing at the folder accusingly, "How long have you known?"

"You don't want me to answer that," Tony mumbles.

" _How long_?"

"Since before Christmas."

Steve lets out a loud, forced laugh, "Before Christmas? Well, that's- that's just great! How many times have we had sex since then?"

"Enough to count them on one hand," Tony murmurs.

And that was a fucking _shit_ thing to say and Steve isn't really sure of what he's doing before he reaches out and his fist collides with the side of Tony's face. Tony's in shock, the entire left side of his head is numb.

"Fuck you!" Tony snarls.

Steve blinks, not really sure what just happened and not to mention, what the _fuck_?

"Are you seriously mad at _me_?" Steve asks, his mouth agape.

When their eyes meet Steve sees that distant look in Tony's eyes when he snaps, "Get the fuck out."

Steve obliges, making his way onto the street quickly. He's pretty sure he passed a book store on the way home and it should still be open. He idly wipes at the tears on his cheeks and by the time he's in the bookstore he can't even remember why he's here. All Steve thinks about is how it's his fault that Peter died. He feels so _stupid_ for even trying to have a baby because they never stood a chance.

He takes a seat in the corner of the bookstore, the piece of paper in his hand, but he can't even think about looking for the books. All he can think about is when he and Tony decided on Peter's name.

" _So I was thinking," Steve begins, looking over at Tony adoringly, "We should pick a name now that we know for sure it's a boy."_

_"'Kay," Tony agrees. He scoots closer to his husband, lying on his side with an arm draped over Steve's belly. Steve takes Tony's hand, playing with his fingers idly._

_"I want a traditional name. Nothing ridiculous," Steve insists, "Any ideas?"_

" _Not really."_

_Steve hesitates, finally replying, "I like Peter._

" _Why Peter?" Tony asks._

" _Because I like it," Steve shrugs._

" _It's fine."_

" _Tony," Steve scolds him, "This is an important decision to make. You aren't even helping."_

" _Here, I'll help. We'll name him Parker. I've always liked that name."_

_"I like Peter better," Steve replies quietly._

_"Then_ why _are you even asking me for my input?"_

_Steve sits up and kisses Tony without another word, a hungry, needy kiss, and he moves to straddle Tony. He's moaning into Tony's mouth, his fingers curling in Tony's hair helplessly and he finally breaks the kiss._

_"What about Peter Parker?" Steve asks thoughtfully._

_"Steve," Tony groans, his hands sliding up under the back of Steve's t-shirt. "Come on, that was like a minute ago. Move on, we're doing this now."_

_Steve reaches for Tony's hands, holding them still and reasoning, "Not until you agree on the name."_

_Tony struggles in frustration and Steve laughs when Tony finally groans, "Fine! Fine, Peter Parker. Fine. Now let go."_

_Steve obliges and Tony's hands are on him once more._


	11. Chapter 11

_February 5th_

"Hey!" Pepper smiles breathlessly. She drops her things on the coffee table before falling onto the couch, kicking her stilettos onto the floor. She's not surprised to see Steve in the same place he was in when she left this morning.

"Tired?" Steve guesses, receiving a nod. "Pep, I can't thank you enough for letting me stay. I didn't know where else to go and I- there's no way I could've gone home last night."

She lets out an exhausted sigh, pulling her hair into a messy pony tail, nodding, "I know. You two need to fix things before it's too late."

"I know," Steve admits, curling into the corner of the couch, arms around his knees, "He left me a message last night saying to come home but I'm pretty sure he was drunk."

"Drunk?" Pepper echoes.

"He's drinking again."

Pepper leans back against the couch with a worried expression on her face and stares at the ceiling for a long while before asking, "When did things get so bad between you two?"

"We were okay - as okay as we could be after Peter died - up until the day I was supposed to have my baby shower. But I think Tony started drinking again the day we found out Peter died. I'm pretty sure I smelled it on him when we went to the hospital. God, I just don't- I don't know _what to do_. We fight all the time and I feel like he doesn't even love me anymore."

"Oh, Steve, he loves you," Pepper replies, putting a reassuring hand on Steve's knee.

Steve considers telling Pepper what they were fighting about and that he punched Tony because Tony is just a huge asshole sometimes and this was one of those times. But it isn't really any of her business and Steve is embarrassed about this entire situation. And that's just great, because now he's teary-eyed and covering his face with his hands miserably.

Initially Pepper isn't really sure what she should do. Here's Captain America huddled in fetal position on her sofa and crying about his relationship with his husband. She has a feeling that there's so much more that Steve isn't telling her but she'll have to go with the information she _does have_ and do her best to comfort Steve. Eventually she reaches over, taking one of Steve's hands in her own and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"It'll be okay," she reassures him, "Maybe not today and maybe not tomorrow. You've gotta give it time."

"I just want my son back," he whispers miserably and he sounds _so tortured_.

Pepper nods silently before pushing herself off the couch. She disappears, Steve assumes to her bedroom to change, and returns in a pair of lounge pants and an oversized t-shirt.

"Have you eaten?"

"No," Steve answers and he honestly can't remember the last time he _did_ eat.

"I'll order Chinese in a while. What's Tony been feeding you? You're- you-..."

"I know," he admits, reaching out to grab his phone from the coffee table, "You can say it; I look like hell. I can't even- I don't eat, my sleeping habits are horrible, Pep. I just feel hopeless all the time and there's nothing I can do to fix it. I have no motivation for- for _anything_."

"Have you tried seeing someone? Maybe a counselor?"

"I have a psychologist but she's not really helping. I've seen her three times now and every time all I do is talk about how I'm feeling and it just overwhelms me more than I already am. I actually went yesterday and I- I asked Tony to come but he wouldn't. She gave me some books to look through so I got those last night at the bookstore. I flipped through some of them this morning but they didn't help much."

A blanket of silence settles over them, the only noise coming from the clinking of the dishes as they're transferred from the sink to the dishwasher. Steve's phone vibrates in his lap and he's so anxious that he enters the wrong pass code twice before unlocking it.

_Come home. We need to talk. – T_

Steve replies, _I can be there in a little bit._

His phone buzzes seconds later.

_Bullshit, I know you're with Pep. You can be here in 30 mins. – T_

"How's the puppy doing?" Pepper asks, genuinely interested.

"He's a handful but he's doing okay. I named him Toby," Steve smiles faintly. _With_ a groan he sets his phone on the table once more, standing up, reaching for his jacket and slipping into his shoes.

"I, uh, I'm gonna head home."

"Tony texted you, didn't he?" she asks, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah," Steve admits as he gathers the rest of his things before heading for the door.

"Let me know how it goes, okay?" Pepper calls over her shoulder. "Good luck!"

"Thanks, Pepper, for everything," Steve says as he's pulling the apartment door closed.

* * *

Steve doesn't have to play the guessing game to figure out where Tony is in the tower; he's lying on the sofa with Toby when Steve comes through the door. Steve visibly tenses and doesn't trust his voice enough to say anything; he can't even look Tony in the eyes.

Tony motions to the kitchen nonchalantly, "There's pizza if you're hungry."

"You know I'm not," Steve remarks. He really isn't trying to be a bitch but it comes out sounding that way, "Let's just get this over with."

"Okay, wait, excuse me?" Tony snaps, "What the fuck did I do to you, exactly? Have you seen my face?"

Steve shakes his head, his eyes tearing up unexpectedly quickly as he heads for the bedroom. He doesn't need to feel any more regret or guilt over this entire thing than he already does.

"Steven-fucking-Stark-Rogers, get your ass back here!" Tony demands, trailing behind his husband as Toby flees the room, "I'm not finished!"

"I'm not going to stand here and take this; I'm not your punching bag, Tony," Steve snarls. He immediately realizes the poor choice of words and spins on his heel, locking eyes with his husband for the first time. Tony's left eye is almost swollen shut and it's deep purple, fading out to a darker red around the edge of the bruise.

"And I'm not yours either," Tony mutters quietly.

"I'm sorry," Steve amends, closing his eyes briefly, "I lost my temper. You can't really blame me for that."

"You've never hit me before. You've got to admit I'm reacting… somewhat appropriately."

"You didn't tell me why Peter died. You _knew_ , you had known for over a month and you still hadn't told me."

"I didn't think you were ready to know. That's no excuse for hitting me."

"Tony, please _stop it_ , I am _sorry_ ," Steve groans. Yes, he's begging, and maybe even whining, "You just- you were keeping that from me and what if I had gotten pregnant? I couldn't go through this twice and live to tell about it the second time."

"It wasn't easy for you to get pregnant the first time."

"That's beside the point," Steve mutters.

"What was I supposed to tell you? You were so- you're still not doing well."

Steve doesn't move, doesn't even reach up to wipe his falling tears.

"I tried telling you, okay?" Tony insists, "I _tried_ but never- I couldn't do it. What was I supposed to say? 'Bruce thinks you're the reason Peter died?' Shit." He reaches up to his face, feeling around his eye tenderly and wincing.

"I'm sorry," Steve says once more, "I didn't mean to hit you."

"Punch," Tony so kindly reminds him, "You _punched_ me, Steve. In the face, with your first."

"It just sort of happened," he mumbles, shrugging one shoulder and Tony has to admit Steve looks pretty apologetic. He approaches Tony cautiously, reaching out to pull him into a hug and he's only comforted when Tony eventually returns the embrace.

"You were being an asshole, Tony. Do you even hear some of the things you say?"

"Sometimes." Tony huffs a soft breath against Steve's ear, "I'm an asshole by default. I can't help that." He pulls back slightly, pressing a tender kiss to Steve's cheek, "Go get some rest, you look like shit."

"See?" Steve asks, smiling just a little, "Did you- you said I look like shit, did you hear yourself?"

Tony smiles into Steve's skin, kissing his neck lightly, "Yeah, I did." He pulls away, hands sliding down Steve's back before he returns to his spot on the couch.

Steve is left alone again and walks toward the nursery. He opens the door quietly so that Tony doesn't hear him but he's surprised when he looks into the blue room. It's bare; everything is gone. Bare walls, bare floor, no trace of Peter or the furniture or any hint that this was ever going to be a baby's room.

Steve is back in the living room suddenly, his eyes wide with anxiety as he asks, "Where is it?"

"Where's what?"

"His stuff. Why is the nursery empty? Where are Peter's things?" Steve's voice strains with each question and he's physically trembling, "Where is it? What did you do?"

Tony sighs out before replying, "I packed it up."

"Why?" Steve demands to know, "Where is it?"

"I gave it away. I kept small box of-"

"You gave it away?" Steve asks as if it's the most unfathomable thing in the world, "What-"

"Yes, I gave it away!" Tony finally snaps, "It wasn't doing any good sitting around here! All it was doing was giving you another excuse not to move on. Peter is _gone_ , Steve! You've got to wake up and accept that."

"But you can't give his things away like he never existed!"

"He never _used them_ ," Tony argues, and he does have a point there, "They're things we bought for him and he never used them."

"It doesn't matter; they were _his!"_

He stares at his husband, fingers tapping idly at his chest, "I'm just gonna say it: I get that you're depressed. But this, Steve- your level of depression is fucking _terrifying_."

Steve throws his hands in the air dismissively, "Yet you're not doing anything to help me."

"I'm _trying_ to help! Jesus Christ, are you blind? I don't know what to do anymore and you won't tell me. What the hell am I supposed to do, huh?"

"Tony, you can't- you don't get to decide when I stop grieving for Peter. It's selfish of you to think you do." Steve rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands before asking, "Who picked everything up?"

"I had it dropped off at the Salvation Army down the street," Tony murmurs. As Steve turns to leave Tony adds quietly, "I don't know how much longer I can do this for."

Steve takes it as an idle threat, walking out the door without even looking back.


	12. Chapter 12

Tony stands in the middle of the living room. He hasn't seen Steve since their confrontation earlier in the evening and it's early morning now. The boxes of Peter's things that Steve retrieved from Salvation Army with a very long explanation are scattered on the floor, contents overflowing onto the coffee table and Steve's asleep on the pull-out sofa bed.

With a heavy heart Tony crosses to the couch and pulls the blanket back, sliding into bed and throwing the cover over his shoulder. He spoons against Steve, arm around his waist and nose against the back of Steve's neck.

Steve stirs, turning his head slightly, "Tony?"

"Who else would it be?" Tony quips. He litters Steve's neck with soft, sweet kisses, "Can you wake up enough to talk?"

"What time is it?"

"Around three? I couldn't sleep."

Steve groans because he was actually asleep for the first time about a week, "Can it wait?"

"Not really. Why are you in here, sweet pea?"

"I thought we were fighting," Steve whispers.

He looks over Steve's shoulder and in Steve's arms in the blanket Peter had been wrapped in at the hospital. He reaches down and takes Steve's hand, intertwining their fingers.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, "I'm sorry for all of this, Steve. I don't know- I don't _know_ what happened, baby, I'm so sorry. I've been such a fucking jackass to you. You don't deserve that."

"I'd say it's okay but it's not," Steve responds slowly. "Have you been drinking?"

"Nope. See?" Tony demonstrates, letting out a breath across Steve's face.

Steve turns onto his other side, facing Tony and keeping their fingers intertwined as he gazes over at his husband.

"I love you," Tony whispers softly. "I am _so sorry_."

Steve goes silent, his breathing slowing significantly as he finally settles down again. He asks so quietly, as if he's afraid to hear the answer, "Is there someone else?"

"What?" Tony asks, eyes wide with fear. "God, no! Why- where would you get an idea like that?"

"I-I don't know. Because you've been so distant. You've been really horrible lately; you act like I'm a chore or an obligation or something. Do you realize how badly you've treated me the past month?"

"Yeah, obviously, since I just told you how bad I feel. But you aren't innocent either; you're a fucking mess."

"Excuse me for grieving for my dead child," he replies bitterly. Tony remains silent and Steve lets out a shaky breath, "Look, this is stupid. We're tearing each other apart when our relationship is the only thing we have left. Peter's gone and the team is pretty much dissipated."

"We haven't dissipated, Steve; you stopped going to meetings and Fury's pretty much written you off because you've isolated yourself from everyone since Peter died. What do you expect is going to happen when someone reaches out to you and you act like you don't give a shit?"

"No one ever calls me, not even Natasha. She used to text me all the time."

"Would you stop wallowing in self-pity? You did this to yourself. It's been almost three months and you still don't go out except to see your psychologist. I'm not trying to be an asshole but you need to hear the truth."

Steve sighs, curling into Tony's embrace even further and whispering, "I know."

"So why do you do it?" Tony asks, running his fingers through Steve's hair and pushing it back from his forehead. "People are going to start thinking I've locked you away in the highest room of the tower."

"I don't care," he murmurs into Tony's bare skin.

Tony remains silent for several minutes before asking curiously, "Have you ever thought about adoption?"

"It's not the same," Steve sighs miserably.

Tony rolls his eyes, "But it's the next best thing, right? Give a kid a second chance at life?"

"I don't- I don't know. I'm afraid that if we adopted a child I'd resent him or her because we can't have one of our own."

"That doesn't sound like the Steve I know," Tony murmurs quietly. "Resentment? That isn't like you."

"I'm still so angry because it isn't fair. We jumped through all those hoops just to get pregnant and then we lost him. What did we do to deserve this?"

"You can't go around thinking anyone is responsible for this," Tony replies. "It's no one's fault. We _didn't know_ anything would happen to Peter and you didn't do anything to deserve this. You're the best person I can imagine, Steve, you're good for the sake of good and nobody would purposely put you through this." Tony leans over, lightly kissing the tip of his nose.

"It's so exhausting," Steve sighs, sinking down into Tony's embrace even further. "The ups and downs and we're fighting one minute and I'm crying the next. I really thought some of this would have gone away by now."

"I know."

"I think we should get away for a while, take a week or two and go to Mali. You need to take your mind off everything and maybe if you get out of the tower long enough you'll start to feel better."

"I don't want to leave the tower," Steve replies quietly, "I'm comfortable here; it's my home. I don't want to feel better."

"You need a vacation. I don't think we should be home on Peter's due date..."

Steve's entire body tenses under Tony's hands. "What about Toby? Who would take care of him?"

"We could drop him off with Clint and Nat or we could board him somewhere. I'm serious, we've got to get you feeling better. I can't do this forever; I can't stay home with you all the time to make sure you don't do something stupid like decide to slit your wrists."

"I'm not suicidal," Steve replies sourly, glaring up at his husband. "Why can't I just be depressed? What is _so bad_ about that?"

"It's unhealthy."

"That's hilarious coming from you," Steve fires back and Tony rolls his eyes because are they _really_ having this conversation right now?

"You're antagonizing me," Tony says pointedly, "I'm beginning to think you like it when we fight."

"We aren't fighting, we're arguing."

"Oh my god. Steve, sweetheart, do you hear yourself? You're fighting about whether or not we're fighting. If you want to take your anger out on someone go to the gym and knock a few bags around. I mean, if you're even capable of that anymore."

"Shut up."

"Alright, you're pissing me off." Tony lunges out and grabs Steve's forearm, pulling forcefully. Steve offers no resistance and allows himself to be pulled to his feet.

"This is irrational," Steve argues as Tony pulls him toward their bedroom. "It's three in the morning and I don't want to go."

"We're going as soon as I'm awake enough to make some calls."

"Tony, we can't-"

"Sleep first," Tony insists.

\--

_February 6th_

Steve sighs, his folded arms resting on the back of the couch as he scowls out the window at the Pacific Ocean. He hates this; he hates that he let Tony drag him out of the tower and to the other side of the country. He hates the weather - it's always so damn nice - and he hates this mansion; he always has. Steve hates _everything_ about this house and he wishes they would have brought Toby along instead of boarding him at the vet's office.

The first time Tony brought Steve here was for their 6th month anniversary. Of course Steve didn't hate it as much then. But it's not the tower and it's not home and he _hates it._

With a heavy hearted sigh Steve turns around properly, stretching out on the couch with Peter's hospital blanket bundled in his arms.

"Tony?" he asks after a long while.

He doesn't glance up from the tablet in his lap to respond, "Hm?"

"What if it was possible for me to go back to how I was pre-serum? If I could- maybe we could try for another baby. I know it's a long shot but-"

Tony raises his gaze this time, eyeing him suspiciously and resisting the urge to roll his eyes, "Steve."

"What?"

"You can't be serious."

"Would you still love me?" he asks quietly, ignoring Tony's question and not meeting his eyes.

"Of course I'd still love you but-"

"I wouldn't be the same."

"Are you saying-? I don't love you just for your body. But you can't be serious; there's _no way_ you could go through that. All of the shit that was wrong with you- are you serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious. Just listen: what if? _What if_ it could be done?"

"Who do you propose could do it? No, that's- I'm just humoring you."

"Bruce?" Steve shrugs.

Tony has to roll his eyes this time, "And what about afterward? Would you stay the little ninety pound guy you were before? You would _die_."

"If it meant I could have a healthy child, I would. I would do anything to be able to have that."

"I didn't think it was possible but you _are_ insane. You've officially gone batshit crazy. That's impossibly childish of you to think you could even do that. It's so unrealistic, Steve, you've got to stop this. You're making yourself miserable."

"I can't stop. Do you think I'd be this way if I had a choice? I don't. There's a hole inside of me that I can't fill. Nothing fixes it. It's not fixable. I'm dead inside, Tony, I'm _dead_."

"I'll do _anything_ to make this easier on you, baby, I just need you to tell me. Anything within reason, I mean. I'll do anything to get you through this."

"I hate this house," Steve replies evasively.

Tony locks his tablet, putting it flat on his lap and he folds his hands on top of it, looking at his husband directly.   
  
"I need to tell you something I think you should know."

"What?"

"I talked to Clint this morning."

Steve says slowly, "Okay."

"He, uh, he's- Natasha's pregnant."

Steve pushes off the couch angrily, snatching Peter's hospital blanket as he heads out of the room in haste.


	13. Chapter 13

Tony lets Steve soak in the news of Natasha's pregnancy for about an hour or so. He doesn't have to ask Jarvis to check on Steve; he could hear him sniffling and crying as quietly as he could in their bedroom. He stopped a few minutes ago so Tony figures he's calm enough to talk.

"Are you alright?" Tony asks quietly from the doorway.

Steve is huddled under a large pile of blankets on the bed, his back to Tony. He sighs a little, "Yeah, I'm okay. Will you lay with me?"

"'Course."

Tony crosses the room and Steve feels the mattress sink with his weight, comforting arms coming around him moments later. He wipes at his eyes and turns over to face his husband. In turn, Tony cradles Steve's head against his neck, running soothing circles on Steve's back with his free hand.

"If there was a way for us to have a healthy baby on our own you know I'd do it in a heartbeat. But there's not so if you really want a kid we're going to have to adopt one."

"Were they even trying to get pregnant?" Steve asks quietly.

"I don't know. That's not the point."

Steve cuts him off quickly, "You're right; it doesn't even matter. I guess maybe that's why Natasha stopped talking to me."

"Maybe."

"I should call her," he suggests.

Tony shrugs, "Yeah." He smiles into Steve's hair, "That sounds more like you."

Steve sighs, not lifting his head from the crook of Tony's neck when he mumbles, "I want to do something reckless. I just don't give a damn about _anything_. Do you have any alcohol? No, that's a stupid question."

"Steve, you're not making sense."

"I want to get drunk. Just forget about everything and maybe- I don't know. Get drunk and have really hot, amazing sex."

"Can you even get drunk?"

Steve pulls away from Tony and sits up, shrugging, "We'll see."

"No. That- that actually sounds like a really bad idea. Let's go grab some food and see if you still feel that way when we get back." Tony sits up as well, taking a long look at his husband and reaches out to touch his cheek, deciding, "You need to shave."

Steve nods in defeat, pulling himself off the bed and walks toward the bathroom to do just that.

* * *

 

Tony tried to pick a restaurant where they would stand less of a chance to see parents and babies. He really did _try_. But as usual, Tony's efforts are in vain and he failed because not 10 minutes after they sit down in the Asian cafe a family of four claims the table next to theirs. Tony frowns in defeat and covers his face with his hand as Steve tries to act as if he's not bothered.

Tony hesitates to ask, "Do you want to go somewhere else?"

"No," Steve answers as his fingers are typing slowly at the keyboard on his phone. He said he'd call Natasha but honestly he doesn't think he could talk to her without sounding envious or jealous. He can't help but feel that way even though he _knows_ that it isn't Natasha's fault that Peter died. She and Clint _deserve_ to be happy, they deserve to have a baby, and as much as he tries to tell himself it isn't true, Steve doesn't believe he deserves a child, doesn't believe he deserves to be happy.

_Hey, Tony told me that you're pregnant. Congratulations._

It hurts to type the message and Steve doesn't hesitate to push send because if he hesitates, chances are he would never send it. He stares at the table absently until his phone bleeps in his hand seconds later.

_Thanks, Cap. You doing okay?_

Steve almost doesn't reply, but that would be rude, and even though Steve feels like shit, even with all of his woes, he could never treat Natasha that way because this isn't her fault; it's _his_ fault.

_I'm alive. We can talk when Tony and I get back to NY._

Tony senses discomfort in his husband and reaches over to brush a strand of stray from Steve's forehead with a sad smile. Steve doesn't look up until Tony takes his hand, intertwining their fingers. Tony leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to Steve's lips and whispering a sweet 'I love you' against his mouth. Steve knows that Tony is just trying to make him feel better and he smiles. He actually _smiles_ for the first time since Tony can't even remember how long, and it's a sad, miserable smile but it's still there. Steve leans in for another, cupping Tony's jaw and angling his head for a deep, tender kiss. And when Tony sighs Steve feels the breath against his cheek and it's just _perfect_.

* * *

 

"Here, put your- ow," Tony frowns, pushing Steve's leg off his shoulder and the breath is knocked out of him when Steve's foot connects with his ribs.

Steve giggles - he fucking _giggles_ \- and reaches for Tony's neck to pull him down into a kiss.

Tony can't believe it but Steve is _tipsy._ Borderline drunk, even. A bottle of Los Azulejos Gold between them and Steve is a giggling mess and for Tony, well, it just took the edge off. He had maybe three drinks but Steve was more than eager to drink more than his share. It sort of breaks Tony's heart that Steve wanted this, that they couldn't just have regular sex. But it's what Steve wanted so Tony complied.

Steve reaches over to the nightstand, grabbing the bottle of tequila and taking the last swig before tossing it onto the marble floor carelessly. He laughs again when it shatters and Tony's mouth is on his neck, trailing a line of kisses down his chest. The kisses continue lower until they're on Steve's belly and that is definitely _not okay_.

"No," he snaps, tensing at the feeling of Tony's mouth on his stomach. He doesn't even want Tony to _touch_ him there so he reaches down, grabbing a handful of Tony’s hair and bringing his head back up.

"Come on, loosen up for me," Tony purrs into Steve's ear, hands trailing over his hips, fingernails scraping slightly against his skin.

"I'm loose," Steve retorts as he rolls over, rising up on his hands and knees.

Tony grips Steve's hips and presses a wet kiss to the small of Steve's back. He drags his tongue over the spot kissed, the salty taste of sweat filling his mouth, and between Steve's ass cheeks. Steve reaches back and grabs Tony's wrist, urging it toward his ass because he needs to feel full, he needs to be filled so Tony complies, slipping three fingers in with ease.

Steve lets out a moan, followed by a light shiver of excitement and a throaty whine, "Tony, c'mon," he begs miserably. "Fuck me."

Tony pauses for just a second to marvel at Steve's language. Steve curses but Tony's _never_ heard him say ‘fuck’ during their entire time together. It's more out of shock than anything that Tony's mouth is agape but he withdraws his fingers, replacing them with his pulsing cock.

He's fucking Steve but not good enough because Steve groans, "Like you mean it, Tony, damn it."

Tony picks up his pace, fucking him harder with sloppy thrusts that Steve can't quite match his rhythm to. He pushes his ass back further and it still isn't good enough. Needs to be rough, needs to _hurt_ for him to get off this time because he's close, just needs something _more._

"Choke me," Steve demands in a moan.

"W-what?" Tony stammers in surprise.

"Choke me."

"Steve-"

"Do I have to do it myself?" he snaps, reaching back for Tony's arm.

On cue, Tony reaches up and tenderly wraps a hand around Steve's throat.

"No," he growls because it's _not good enough._

So Tony wraps his entire arm around Steve's neck, pressing up against his throat and pulling his head back forcefully. Tony grabs his own forearm for better leverage, pulling back harder until Steve lets out a strained whimper. He has to admit that it's fucking _hot_ that Steve is turned on by this. As Tony leans forward to kiss the back of Steve's ear and bite at his earlobe, his dick shifts and Steve's coming, throwing his head back and hitting Tony square in the face. Tony's orgasm is triggered by the feeling of Steve clenching around him and he spills into Steve in his final violent thrusts.

He releases Steve's throat only because he feels a warm, wet sensation on his upper lip and reaches up, pulling his fingers back to find them coated in blood.

"Shit!"

Steve turns around, weary eyes focusing on his husband and he gasps at the sight of Tony's bloody nose.

"O-oh my god, Tony, you're bleeding!"

"No-fucking-shit."

Steve reaches for the first thing he can grab, which would be his favorite checkered shirt, and holds it to his husband's face. All the while, Tony glares at Steve the best he can with his head tilted back, brown eyes narrowed angrily.

"I'm sorry," Steve admits sheepishly. But he's smiling before long and snickering, still wiping at the blood on Tony's face. "You have to admit that was fun."

"Maybe until you hit me in the fucking face with your head and made my nose bleed. What the hell is with you abusing me lately?"

"That time was an accident," he drawls with a kiss to Tony's cheek. He pulls his shirt away and wipes at the last bit of blood that dripped onto Tony's lip, pressing a kiss in the same place.

Tony settles down on his side and Steve curls up against him, tucking his head under Tony's chin. Tony breathes a sigh of relief that they're going to sleep now because he can't stand the thought of seeing Steve like this – tipsy, borderline drunk, numb - ever again. But Steve had a taste of what it feels like to be numb and feeling numb is better than feeling anything at all.


	14. Chapter 14

_February 13th_

Tony walks back into the bedroom, vaguely rubbing at his damp hair with a towel. They're back in the tower now because as much as Tony wanted to stay in Malibu, it was only making things with Steve worse. Steve wanted to go home and be with Toby so Tony grudgingly complied.

"You have plans today?" Tony asks, distracted.

Steve is still curled up in bed, Peter's hospital blanket bundled in his arms with their puppy at the foot of the bed. Tony thinks that's sort of pathetic and he had half a mind to chunk the blanket somewhere on the way back here from California but Steve hardly lets it out of his sight.

"I'm having coffee with Natasha," Steve answers eventually, watching as Tony bumbles around the bedroom and searches for something clean to wear.

"Oh, right. That's today. Well, in that case, have fun. I don't know what time I'll be home. No telling how long Banner's gonna draw this one out for. Will you be okay alone?"

"I'm not a child," Steve retorts sourly.

"Oh?" Tony gestures to the baby blanket that Steve is basically cuddling.

"Shut up."

"You know that isn't healthy, right? You shouldn't-"

"Leave," Steve breaks in, voice curt, "Get out if you're gonna start this; I don't feel like fighting. It's too early."

"Someone's got his sassy pants on today."

"You know damn well I don't feel good, Tony. Stop it, please," he begs quietly.

"You're right," Tony amends, pulling on a wrinkled t-shirt. He glances down with a shrug, holding his arms out, "Good enough. Come here, my little basket case."

Steve half-smiles and crawls out of bed, crossing the room to his husband. He buries his nose in Tony's neck, nuzzling his face against Tony's freshly washed skin.

"Oh, hey, this is a nice change," Tony grins, returning the embrace and slipping his hands beneath the waistband of Steve's sweat pants. He gives Steve's ass a firm squeeze, earning a low, almost-moan in return.

"Mmm." Steve pulls away, slapping at Tony's hands. He grabs Tony's face, bringing their lips together in a passionate, thorough kiss that leaves Tony confused.

When Steve breaks the kiss Tony can only mumble a 'see you later' before leaving the room.

\--

Steve almost doesn't recognize Natasha when she approaches him at the table inside of Starbucks. She's bundled in a black leather coat, a red scarf and a knit cap pulled down to the top of her eyebrows. But he recognizes the clicking of her boots and stands up to greet her.

"Hey, Tasha," he murmurs, voice low.

"Cap," Natasha smiles, wrapping her arms around Steve tightly. She pulls back, amused, and gives Steve a once over, "You look like hell."

"I know." Steve pulls at the collar of his shirt before smoothing it down subconsciously. He reaches over, pulling the other chair out for Natasha and taking his own seat.

"Sorry, I just- I haven't seen you since the memorial. You're so..."

"I know," he whispers shamefully.

Natasha excuses herself for a moment, heading to the counter and coming back with two Venti coffees minutes later.

"If you're not okay with this-" she begins, gesturing between them, clearly unable to finish the rest of her sentence, "Tony said you weren't doing well. I had no idea-"

"It's fine," Steve replies firmly but it's clear that he's uncomfortable and he's definitely judging Natasha for having coffee because she's pregnant and isn't supposed to be drinking it.

Steve takes a sip of his and his hands are shaky. He pretends not to notice it; Natasha notices but she doesn't say anything and Steve tries to ignore it the best he can as he asks, "So, you're pregnant?"

Natasha doesn't try to conceal the fact that she's absolutely delighted and she doesn't hold back a smile. She's _beaming_.

"I am."

"How far are you?"

"About six weeks."

With a slight nod, Steve stares down at his cell phone. His eyes are scanning over the words in his email but he doesn't comprehend anything. All he can focus on is being happy for Natasha and not breaking down in front of her. If he can make it through lunch without falling to pieces he promises that as soon as he's back home he can do whatever the fuck he wants.

Natasha reaches over hesitantly to touch the back of his hand, "Cap, we don't have to talk about it."

Steve hesitates for a moment, "No, it's- I'm fine. Are you excited?"

"Yeah, we're excited. It's not like we planned for this but Clint and I are in a really good place right now. I have to admit that I'm glad it happened."

It's not fucking _fair_ because Steve and Tony tried to get pregnant for two and a half years. And now Natasha is pregnant and she isn't even _married_ and they weren't even _trying_.

"I'm happy for you two," Steve manages to look up at Natasha with a genuine smile, "It's really great."

"What about you? How have you been doing?"

Steve shrugs one shoulder and murmurs, "Probably a lot worse than I should be. My due date is tomorrow so..."

"How's Tony?"

"Normal," Steve shrugs, "It's not fair, you know? I'm stuck in this... rut, I guess. He doesn't have to go through this. Don't get me wrong; he was upset but not- not like me. He doesn't understand."

Steve emits a long, steady sigh. He is _not_ going to break down in front of Natasha and everyone else in the building. He doesn't know when this anxiety developed; this need and want to get away from anyone. All he wants to do is go back to the tower. And then he can drink until Tony gets home and when Tony gets home Steve will guilt him into having sex and afterword Steve can fall asleep and forget. He'd do anything to be at home right now, he'd do anything to have Tony fuck him as hard as he hates himself. Just so he doesn't have to think about anything else, just so that he can get away from the nagging want in his heart.

They talk for a while about Thor and Jane and Bruce and Betty until Steve brings up babies again.

He takes the last sip of his coffee before clearing his throat and saying, "I was thinking that maybe- I don't know. Maybe Tony and I could try again if I wasn't- if I was back to the way I was before the serum. If somehow I- if there was a way."

Natasha blinks slowly before responding, "Cap, I've seen your file. You're not serious, are you?"

"You've seen my file?"

Natasha rolls her eyes playfully, "Please, like you didn't know; I've seen everyone's files. You wouldn't believe some of the stuff I found on Hill. Anyway, there's no way you could have a healthy baby if you went back to your pre-serum body. It's sweet of you to consider it but, seriously? Asthma, scarlet fever, rheumatic fever, sinusitis, chronic colds, high blood pressure, heart palpitations, easily fatigued, heart trouble- come on, you can't be serious. The strain that a pregnancy would put on your body would kill you."

Steve stares, blinking slowly, "Wow. How did you- never mind."

"Have you thought about adoption?"

Steve scowls involuntarily, icy blue eyes looking up at Natasha and he replies so quietly that she can hardly understand him, "It's not the same."

Natasha's phone bleeps and she's thankful that she can finally look away from Steve's void eyes. She purses her lips at the text, shaking her head just barely.

_The toaster may or may not have caught on fire and it may or may not have been my fault._

"I'm gonna go before Clint burns down the place." She stands up hastily, patting Steve on the shoulder, "We'll talk more later, okay?"

"Okay. Hope everything's okay at home." Natasha almost out the door when Steve stands up, turning around and calling out, "Tasha."

She spins around, hair whipping across her face in the wind.

"I really am happy for you."

Natasha's smile is sad because no; Steve isn't happy for her. She doesn't blame him; she can't blame him, because the feeling isn't exactly voluntarily. She knows that Steve is trying to be happy for her but his heart just won't let him. But Natasha can appreciate and accept the fact that Steve is a sweetheart for saying so. She nods, just a little downward jerk of her head, and leaves Steve alone in the café.

* * *

Tony glances across the room to Bruce who's leaning over the lab table, crunching voraciously at the apple in his hand.

"Can we wrap this up?" he asks suddenly.

"You need to go?"

"Yeah, Steve went out with Romanov and I don't- I should probably be there when he gets back."

"How's he doing?" Bruce asks, genuinely concerned.

Tony grabs his jacket, shrugging into it and heading for the door. "Not well. Really shitty. I'm actually kind of on suicide watch so I better- yeah." Tony realizes he's said too much so he turns around, throwing up a wave on his way out the door.

* * *

The scene Tony finds when he gets to the tower isn't pretty. Steve is a drunk mess on the floor and judging by his inebriated state he's been home along for at least an hour or two. And now he's moaning in misery, saying horrible things about how he's worthless, how he's such a failure and how much he hates himself for killing Peter. Tony desperately tries to get answers out of Steve and he finally gets him in the bedroom. He strips his jacket, tossing it onto the floor.

"What's this about?" Tony demands to know, his voice remaining as calm as possible. "Why this, Steve? Why drinking? You know we can have another baby. We can adopt but not as long as you're doing this to yourself. You've gotta get it under control. Give me the bottle."

"I don't want another baby; I want _Peter!_ " Steve insists, gesturing his arm wildly, the bottle of whiskey narrowly missing Tony's face. "Why is it _so hard_ for you to understand that?!"

Tony manages to catch Steve by the wrist and take the bottle away, setting it on the nearest flat surface. He takes his husband's face between his hands, thumbs stroking at his cheekbones idly and Steve's skin is burning hot.

"Steve," Tony whispers, resting their foreheads together. A few tears slip down his face as he tries to meet Steve's eyes. "Sweetheart, look at me. Baby, focus. How much did you drink?"

"Make it stop," he drawls out softly, pressing his face into Tony's neck, "It hurts _s-so bad._ "

"I know," Tony whispers, "I know it hurts." He presses soft and reassuring kisses to the side of Steve's head, leading him to the bed where Steve collapses, curling into a loose fetal position as Tony grabs a damp rag from the bathroom. Kneeling next to his husband, Tony dabs at the sweat on Steve's brow and brushes his hair back.

Steve reaches for Tony's forearm, grabbing it loosely and bringing Tony's hand against his cheek.

"I'm s-sorry, Tony," he slurs softly, the tears sliding across the bridge of his nose. "It's all my fault."

"It's _not_ your fault," Tony reassures him, pressing sweet, comforting kisses to Steve's forehead. "It's not your fault, baby but you've gotta stop this, Steve; I can't handle it."

"I can't _,"_ he groans miserably, the tears falling more rapidly now, "He- it's _tomorrow."_

Tony climbs up on the bed and tosses the wet rag to the side, cradling Steve in his arms desperately. He's begging, _praying_ that Steve falls asleep because he can't stand to see him like this. Hell, Tony is practically lulling him to sleep with soft kisses and gentle caresses. When Steve has eventually passed out and the tower is quiet again, Tony lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He places a chaste kiss to the corner of Steve's slack mouth before sliding out of bed.

Steve is asleep long enough for Tony to empty the tower of any sort of alcohol, even his own private stash, and that may not be enough to stop Steve but it surely is a start.


	15. Chapter 15

_February 14th_

To say it's been a long night for Tony would be an understatement. He hasn't been to sleep yet. He checked, double checked, and checked again to make sure that every bottle of liquor he had hidden around the tower was poured out. He even consulted Jarvis to make sure he'd gotten them all.

And then he had to figure out what the fuck to get Steve because it's Valentine's Day and he'd been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he'd completely forgotten. He figured Steve will be a wreck today because it's his due date. For a moment Tony was tempted to sedate Steve so that he doesn't have to watch him fall to pieces yet again. But he didn't and the hours were ticking and it was just past midnight when Tony decided what to do. He'd write Steve a letter, a letter apologizing for all the things he's done, a letter saying all the things he thinks Steve needs to hear.

It took Tony an hour to come up with the first sentence. He didn't write the post-script until 7:15 this morning. And then he decided that the letter alone wasn't enough so he placed it on the bedside table where Steve would surely find it and set out for the lab, grabbing Steve's dog tags from their hook in the bathroom beforehand.

It's just past eight when Steve wakes up. His head is incredibly sore from last night and when he opens his eyes to see it's another cloudy, miserable day he groans. He reaches out to the side of the bed blindly, surprised to find that Tony isn't next to him, but the familiar fur of his yellow lab. It's only when Steve sits up that he sees the piece of notebook paper, smeared and wrinkled from repeated erasing and handling, resting on the nightstand. He picks it up, his blue eyes taking a moment to focus before he begins to read.

_Hey, pumpkin,_

_I don't want today to be sad for you but I know it will be. You deserve some peace with all of this. I'm so sorry for everything I've done to you; you didn't deserve any of it. You were hurting and I didn't know what to do; I still don't know because I'm not good with dealing with those things._

_With that said, you have to stop the way you're behaving. I can't stand to see you drinking and being so... not you. I'm so terrified that one day I'm going to come home and find you dead. It's almost like you're not even Captain America anymore; you're just Steve Stark-Rogers who had a stillborn baby and never moved on. I'm really sorry if I'm coming off as sounding like an asshole but you need to hear the truth because it scares me. I'm scared to death that I'll never get you back. I didn't tell you why Peter died because I didn't think you were ready to know. That was my fault. I should have told you sooner. Maybe I did deserve that right hook, huh?_

_I know we tried so long to have a baby but I hope this isn't the end of that journey because I would really, really love the chance to raise a family with you. If you want to talk about adoption I'm open and willing whenever you're ready. If you don't want to make a decision about it yet that's fine, too. Whatever you decide, whatever you choose, we'll get through this together and hopefully we'll be stronger in the end because of it._

_I miss you. I miss my husband who used to wake up stupidly early and cook me breakfast that I didn't even eat half the time. And god, I miss your laugh, the way you'd throw your head back and just smile at everything. I miss when you used to laugh at my dumb jokes even though you'd heard them 100 times before. I miss you so bad._

_This is everything that I could never say to you in person but you deserve to hear it. I love you so much, baby. Happy Valentine's Day._

_PS. This sort of took me all night to write so I'm sorry if it doesn't make sense_.

Steve has to read it five or six times for it to sink in.

_Tony cares. Tony loves him. Tony misses him. Tony needs him. They need each other._

Steve doesn't bother to wipe at his watering eyes before he climbs out of bed.

"Jarvis, is Tony in the lab?"

The automated response comes, "Yes, sir."

Steve makes his way downstairs as quickly as possible, bursting through the lab door with fervor, "Tony?"

As soon as Tony spins around in his chair his eyes are wide because Steve is on his knees in front of him, throwing himself into Tony's lap, wrapping his arms around Tony's waist and hugging him relentlessly.

"Hey, hey," Tony murmurs softly, burying his fingers in Steve's hair, "What's this about?"

Steve just stays there, crying into Tony's lap, squeezing him relentlessly.

"C'mon, stand up, I can't even see you," Tony murmurs.

Steve does as he's told and Tony does the same, rising from his chair.

Tony runs a hand through his hair sloppily, clearly distraught, "Oh fuck, you're crying. Look, I'm sorry I-"

"They- they're good tears, Tony. I'm so sorry. I've been a really crappy husband lately. I was so messed up last night and then this morning I find this note you wrote me. Tony, god, I- I couldn't ask for anything more than this," Steve replies finally, waving the piece of paper in his hand. He wraps his arms around his husband tightly, blinking the tears away and kissing Tony's cheek.

"Good," Tony whispers against his ear, "Because that's all I could come up with. It took me all night."

"I'm so sorry."

"Me too. I've been such a dick to you, pumpkin."

Steve pulls back, wiping his eyes and sniffling, "I'm framing this."

"You're not framing it."

"I'm framing it," Steve insists stubbornly.

"There's one more thing," Tony murmurs, pulling away to cross the room. He grabs Steve's dog tags that he'd spent a good amount of time on this morning and Steve's slightly curious at the jingling coming from Tony's hands. He sees them swinging and it isn't until Tony hands them to Steve that he notices the newer tag is engraved with Peter's name, birthday, and how much he weighed. Steve's hands are trembling now and he looks up at Tony with still-glossy eyes.

"What?"

"You, Tony," Steve smiles, "You’re being so- so _human_ and thoughtful and sentimental. I didn't get you anything." He wipes at his eyes again, the tears falling relentlessly, before he slipping the chain over his head and pulling Tony into another hug.

"Don't worry about getting me anything," Tony murmurs, kissing the shell of Steve's ear, "This is enough. To know that you're here and you're okay and you're not crying because of something I did to hurt you."

Steve pulls back, resting their foreheads together and smiling endlessly.

"And god, that smile, that's enough right there. I haven't seen you smile like that in months."

It's all Steve can do to press a chaste kiss at the corner of Tony's mouth.

Tony smirks, "I think this is the part where we go back upstairs and have really great sex."

"After you," Steve retorts, offering his hand.

Tony grabs Steve's hand triumphantly, leading him back upstairs to the bedroom.

They're naked within minutes, Steve on his back, legs around Tony's waist and Tony's kneeling on the bed, arms around Steve's thighs, trembling in anticipation.

"You ready?" he asks huskily, voice thick with desire and emotion.

"So ready," Steve breathes, stealing a kiss from Tony's lips, "I want it so bad. Come on, put it in me."

Tony loves this, loves that Steve doesn't even have to be drunk or tipsy for him to say those things this time.

Steve smiles up at Tony, locking eyes with him before deliberately moaning out, " _Fuck me_."

"Shit, I've missed this," Tony pants out, pushing just the head of his cock into Steve. He pulls back far enough to look down at the sight and clenches his teeth together before sliding in with one fluid motion.

The back of Steve's head hits the bed and his mouth is open so wide as a long, steady moan falls out of it. His hands settle on Tony's thighs, fingers digging in them so hard they're bound to leave bruises but Tony doesn't care because this is _perfect_.

Tony's fucking him so good that Steve doesn't even have to touch himself because Tony is hovering over him, his weight creating enough friction to stimulate Steve's cock. He moves one hand from Tony's thigh to his head, tangling his fingers into that dark hair and Tony does the same, wrapping his fingers and pulling hard at Steve's blond hair. He leans down for a violent, passionate kiss that doesn't involve much lip at all, mostly teeth and tongue.

Steve comes quickly, convulsing underneath Tony, squirming and gripping Tony's ass desperately to get Tony as far inside as he'll go. He clenches down purposely and feels Tony release inside of him, a string of filthy words falling from his lips. The thought, the feeling of Tony's come slipping and sliding inside of him is enough to prolong Steve's orgasm. He's so out of his mind with ecstasy that it doesn't even register that Tony is moaning his name or kissing his mouth.

Tony slips out easily with a grunt, falling to his knees so that he's eye-level with Steve's ass. He shoves his tongue in inside easily, nose flush against Steve's scrotum so much that he can't even breathe. He licks, sucks, and briefly tastes himself as his semen slips out, sliding down Steve's ass and dripping depravedly onto the sheets beneath them.

Tony pulls away finally, pillowing his cheek against Steve's thigh as his chest heaves with short, shallow breaths. He pulls himself up to his knees, slapping Steve's hip and flailing his body on top of him. Steve chuckles, arms coming around his husband instantly and rolling them over so that he's on top. He presses a light kiss to Tony's arc reactor before resting his chin in the same place.

Steve feels only a little guilty for being this happy. They should be at the hospital and Peter should be alive and in his arms. But he isn't and Steve is finally coming to terms with that. And it's okay because Tony is still here, warm and alive beneath him, giving him all the more reason to keep holding on.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all I've written so far! I hope to have a new chapter posted soon.


	16. Chapter 16

 

_June 22_

Clint, Natasha, and Bruce, Tony and Steve are all gathered around the dining room table of Tony's and Steve's floor of the tower. The rest of the team, minus Thor, has all moved into their respective floors of Stark Tower at Tony's insistence and that's really helped Steve get through these past 4 months. Tonight they're celebrating Steve's and Tony's 5th wedding anniversary and just as they're about to eat Steve stands up suddenly, clearing his throat and all eyes are on him.

"Hey, everyone, I know you're all starving but I just wanted to say something."

"Oh, god," Tony mumbles, putting a hand over his face.

Steve gives Tony a painful elbow in the arm before continuing.

"Tony and I have been through something no one should ever have to go through. When I woke up from being asleep for decades and had lost everything... that pain couldn't even compare to losing Peter. When he died I completely lost myself and everything I ever cared about. I treated you guys like you didn't matter but you were still there for me. I know that because Tony always came home from meetings and told me that everyone was asking about me. So to everyone, I just wanna say thank you." With a knowing smile Steve adds, "Will someone please tell my husband to stop making annoyed faces behind my back?"

Tony lets out a muffled snicker, snaking an arm around Steve's empty chair and Steve takes a deep breath before speaking again.

"Tony and I should have a son but we don't because he… he died. Peter should be four months old by now but he's not here. I'm finally coming to terms with that and it's okay," he pauses to turn to Clint and Natasha with a smile, "Because you guys have a baby on the way. So, to the happy couple, congratulations. I think I can speak for everyone when I say we are _so_ excited to meet him. Between all of us hopefully the kid will turn out half-way normal."

Tony sits back, listening to his husband intently and realizing that everything Steve said is true. Natasha, Clint and Bruce were always there for Steve whether Steve realized it or not. In an odd pang of sentiment Tony smiles, more to himself than anyone at the table, and stands up next to his husband.

"Well, if we're going to get all ridiculous then I want to say something. First of all, the last five years of my life have been the best," Tony hooks an arm around Steve's waist, pulling him tight against his side, "So, Cap, Happy Anniversary. To everyone else, I'm happy to be able to celebrate with you. Kind of sucks that Thor couldn't be here. But anyway, like Steve said, we've been through something… _horrible_ , for lack of a better word. All of you have been so supportive and I couldn't ask for anything more than that."

Tony falls back into his chair and Steve does the same. As soon as he does Natasha reaches over, grasping Steve's hand only for a second and giving it a comfortable squeeze. She doesn't have to say anything, just looks gives Steve a certain look, and he sees it in her eyes that she's returning Steve's thanks.

* * *

 After dinner the team spreads out on the floor. Natasha and Bruce are still in the kitchen picking at the leftover shawarma while Steve, Tony and Clint are lounging in the living room, a few empty shot glasses scattered around the coffee table. Tony was pretty sure it was safe to supply tequila because Steve has been doing so much better lately. But now he's growing restless and really wants to be alone with his husband.

"Come on," Steve groans, pulling Tony by the hand, "I wanna go to bed. It's our anniversary; we should've been in bed a long time ago."

"Wow, Cap," Clint responds, amused, "I've never seen you be so... loose? Or maybe this normal, I guess."

Tony is about to make a cocky remark when Steve senses it coming and throws a hand over Tony's mouth knowingly, "Don't."

"Tequila's his best friend," Tony says when Steve finally moves his hand, "Makes him crazy. One time-"

Steve groans, "God, Tony. No! That is _not_ a story you can tell people."

"How do you even know which one I'm talking about?" Tony quips. Unanswered, he ignores Steve's pleas, justifying his actions by the fact that they're the only 3 in the room.

"We were fucking doggy style and Steve's tipsy, borderline drunk even, and I'm coming and it's one of those fucking great orgasms where you can't see straight, right? Then he throws his head back and hits my face and gives me a bloody nose."

As Clint laughs in the background, Steve glares at Tony for a long moment before muttering, "I apologized for that so many times."

"It's still funny," Tony laughs, giving his husband a good-natured smile followed by a kiss on the cheek.

Steve returns it with a kiss just below Tony's ear and whispers, "Please?"

Tony finally complies, grabbing Steve's hand and leading him to the bedroom. As soon as the door is closed Steve pushes Tony against it, arms coming around him and kissing him thoroughly, possessively, and Tony lets Steve take control for the night.

* * *

 "I feel like I don't tell you I love you enough," Tony mumbles into Steve's skin, their legs entangled between each other's and the bed sheets. He sort of forgot how good it felt to have Steve's 200 pound body pressing him into the mattress and he's still basking in the afterglow.

Steve rakes his fingers through Tony's damp hair, rolling his head to the side to ask, "Really?"

"Mmm," Tony sighs, "But you know, don't you?"

"You love me?"

Tony moves his head enough to bite Steve's earlobe before whispering, "Shut up, I'm serious."

Steve's arms tighten around Tony's smaller waist, "You don't have to say it. I know you're terrible at saying those things. I thought... but honestly, when we were fighting all the time I started questioning it."

Tony pushes out of Steve's arms, moving to straddle him, "Maybe I should show you again."

"No," Steve with a chuckle, shaking his head with a grin, "No, it's fine."

Tony wiggles back enough to slide his hands down to Steve's flat belly, surprised when his husband's own hands instantly snap to catch Tony's wrists in an unyielding grip.

"What?" Tony asks, slightly shaken and pulling on his arms.

When Steve releases him he's covering his face shamefully and he whispers through his fingers, "I'm sorry."

Tony gestures, asking hesitantly, "Do you not like me touching you there because of-?"

The blond hesitates to nod but does so eventually, a humiliated expression encompassing his whole body.

"I'm sorry," Steve mutters again, his face burning pink, "It's stupid, I know."

"It's not stupid," Tony reassures him quietly, reaching up to caress Steve's cheek in a comforting manner as he slips off to the side and stretches out next to his husband.

"It's been seven months," Steve murmurs, ashamed, "I'm so stupid."

"You're not stupid." Tony's tone softens as Steve uncovers his face to reveal tearful eyes. Tony turns to his side, draping an arm across Steve's chest, "It's okay. C'mon, you don't have to cry about it."

Steve inhales deeply, sniffling and trying his best not to cry.

"It's so embarrassing."

"Who do you have to be embarrassed in front of?" Tony smirks, "Certainly not me. Come on, don't cry, today's supposed to be happy. Just because you're sad doesn't mean you can't laugh at funny stuff and enjoy happy moments. You can still do happy things if you're sad."

Steve remains quiet for a long moment before he's finished with his mini meltdown. When he's sure of his voice once more he looks over to Tony, intertwining their fingers where Tony's hand rests on his chest.

Steve clears his throat before saying quietly, "I want to- I think I'm ready to adopt."

Tony cranes his neck, pressing a kiss to the corner of Steve's mouth.

"I've been waiting to hear you say that."


	17. Epilogue

Sometimes Tony has to slap himself as a reminder that he isn't dreaming. Late at night when he's lying in bed spooning with Steve, their bodies curled together so perfectly, with soft baby coos coming through the monitor and Toby lying at their feet, he has a hard time believing that this is all his. He has even more of a hard time believing he deserves everything he has.

He and Steve still make the trip out to the cemetery one in a while to visit Peter's grave. They bring James with them every time they go and Tony knows that Steve will continue this tradition when James is older. He's only 3 months old right now but Steve tells James stories about when he was pregnant with Peter. He knows James can't understand a word he's saying but Steve thinks it's important for James to know how much he and Tony wanted a child. It's so important to Steve that James knows how much he's wanted and loved. Steve's made it his goal in life to raise this little boy as best he can.

Before James they were set to adopt a baby girl they had already named Gwen but the birth the parents backed out at the last minute. Tony and Steve left the hospital that rainy afternoon with an empty baby carrier and that same familiar feeling of defeat they felt when Peter had died. It set them back about 6 months because Steve got low again. But this time was worse because Natasha had given birth to her and Clint's son, Phil, not 3 weeks before and just like with Peter's death, Tony couldn't get his husband out of the tower for anything other than to take trips to the cemetery.

Tony made sure Steve was ready to start the adoption process again before he told his husband that they had a 100 percent assured baby boy that was theirs. Ten days later they brought James home from the hospital. They adopted him from a teenage girl and her parents who weren't the best kind of people. It was a private adoption and Tony compensated them greatly for the baby boy. He did anything and everything in his power for this adoption to go through. The birth family was poor and wanted money and Tony had money so he didn't hesitate to give them whatever they asked for because it was worth any amount of money not to lose Steve like that _again_.

But things are better now and Tony thinks the best part of being a parent is watching Steve with James. The way Steve is with their son is unparalleled to anything Tony has ever seen. At night when Tony is lying in bed, unable to sleep, and James makes the tiniest noise over the monitor Steve jerks awake only to have Jarvis reassure him that James is fine and there's no need to get up. Regardless, Steve gets up anyway and 9 times out of 10 he comes back to bed with James. Tony doesn't even begin to tell Steve that co-sleeping is highly frowned upon by modern parents because Steve needs to know that James is okay and Tony respects that. Oh, and Tony definitely programmed Jarvis with an alarm that will sound if James were in any eminent danger of accidentally being suffocated by Steve, Tony or both of them.

Steve actually thinks Tony is really good at being a dad. When they got to the hospital and finally met James Tony gladly accepted the bundled up baby the nurse offered him. Tony didn't even mention how he didn't like to be handed things because James was something that definitely wasn't handed to them. They worked so goddamn hard to become parents.

Even now as Tony works in the lab and Steve sits on the sofa in the corner with James curled in his arms, bottle in hand, Tony wishes Steve would go away because he can't concentrate. He looks up at his husband at least every 2 minutes and every time Steve's eyes are focused on James and it's too damn cute for Tony to focus. He would never let on to that though.

The next time Tony looks up Steve does the same, their eyes connecting across the room.

"What?" Steve asks.

Tony shrugs and Steve's eyes are cast downward yet again.

"What?" Steve asks again, glancing down at his shirt. He confirms that there are no remnants of formula or spit-up anywhere and narrows his eyes.

"Why do you keep looking at me?"

Tony pauses as Steve continues to stare with raised eyebrows. Tony thinks for a long while before coming up with a response. Then he gestures with his welding torch, wiping at his brow and he's unable to meet his husband's eyes because his sentimentality is showing again.

"You just- you look- um, just- you look beautiful. When you hold him, you- it's beautiful."

Steve doesn't fight the smile tugging at his lips, "You do, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I just want to say thanks to everyone who's read this fic and took the time to comment. It means a lot to me because I know it's different and depressing and maybe even a little bit weird. I love this story so much, it had so much personal meaning to me because I went through something very similar to Steve's saga and I'm so sad it's over.


End file.
